All Magic Comes With A Price
by SpookshowBabyx
Summary: "Wishing the blonde gone and knowing the results that have come from her mother's rage are two very different things, and if she wishes her son to take her back, she needs to find Emma before her mother tires of playing twenty questions" Set after Emma and Mary Margaret are sucked into the hat. Regina struggles to find them and bring them back. Slow, complicated Swan Queen.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _A slightly angst-ridden little tale to go with my shitty day. This is an idea that literally came to me while I was refusing to get up this morning and continued bugging me until I relented and wrote it down. This is also my first Season 2 fic attempt so be gentle with me- slightly AU, takes place after the wardrobe burning stint, but things are more or less explained as this goes along- it just differs a little from the shows chain of events. _

_For those of you following my '**Wet**' fic, fear not, I will continue the more light-hearted fun between these ladies, I just need to plan on what to do to Emma. *ahem* I mean what Regina will do to Emma. Please comment on this to let me know what you think. _

* * *

"This has to work"

The brunette mutters to herself as she angrily wipes a traitorous tear from her cheek and inserts the tweezers into the slim, glass flask with shaking hands. Easing up her fingers to release the metal teeth, she watches as the raven-black silken strand falls softly down into the glass cocoon to rest atop a shorter strand of chestnut brown. Her grip on the glass is so tight she's in danger of shattering it, as she stares into the flask with wide, blood-shot eyes, begging mercilessly that this will work. It has to.

_"Where's my mom, where's-"_

_"They're gone- they fell through a porthole, they... Henry I'm, sorry_

_"No you're not... You really _are_ the evil queen... I don't want to see you again!"_

_"Don't... don't say that... I love you!"_

_"Then prove it! Get Emma and Mary Margaret back, and until then, leave me, leave _everyone_ alone!"..._

"Oh Henry..."

It comes out as a choked sob as she tries to push away the memory of the look on her son's face upon finding her with Charming at her mercy. She feels as though her nerve endings have been fried with the sheer emotional overload of those torturous forty-two hours. She has had to deal with her son's death, partially by her own hand, made all the more painful by the fact that it was the blonde's- the Savior's- kiss that woke him. And then scurrying home with all the dignity of vermin so as to avoid being exterminated as such, she doesn't know, or want to think about, what would have become of her had Emma- the _fucking_ Savior- not taken it upon herself to play the valiant hero and stand between her and those she had wronged. The degradation of accepting protection from Snow and Emma as the world she had built crumbled before her eyes. And then losing them as that thing, that wraith, pulled the blonde down with it into the depths of that despicable hat; Snow following her without pause in a way that hurt Regina's own heart as she was left with nothing. The months of failed attempts to rid herself of Emma Swan, only for her to find herself mercifully free of the blonde, and yet still no closer to getting her son back.

The week following the two women's disappearance has been pure hell. Her mind has become muddled as after that first night, lying corpse-like on Henry's bed, her world has become a cider-clouded haze. She has tried everything she can think of, has even regained her magic- its source something she has continually puzzled over and pushed hurriedly aside as she recalls that flash of frightened green eyes and the soft pale hand at her elbow- and yet nothing has come close to working. Until now.

She sits on the decidedly lumpy mattress in the loft room of Mary Margaret's apartment, her skeleton keys lying splayed beside her. The walls are relatively bare save for a few cheap prints of inane landscapes, and she knows they will have hung here long before Emma claimed the room. There is almost no sign at all that the room belongs to the blonde; a bottle of whisky a shot away from empty on the nightstand and a plain black bra hung forlorn over the spindle at the foot of the bed the only signs of inhabitance in the otherwise sterile room.

At her feet lies the hat. Not the hat that moronic buffoon of a Prince managed to crush so fatally- quite the reunion indeed, trapping wife and less than enthusiastic child in another world- but the slightly wonky, slightly frayed attempt at a hat she has managed to procure from Jefferson. Emma's hat. And now, as she stares unblinkingly into the glass, the short hair taken from the collar of Charming's coat and the longer hair taken from the raven-headed schoolteacher's pillow curling together, finally she feels something happening. In front of her very eyes, those delicate strands begin to move of their own accord- entwining together like rope- as the glass glows in a way that makes her maddeningly homesick.

"Yes"

True love had ended up being the most powerful magic of all, and here again it stands the test of time. She knows the hat shouldn't work, but the reasoning behind that whole argument had been lack of magic. And now she has it. Magic created from one of those she seeks, the hat fashioned by the other, and she knows-_ hopes_- that if anything will bring her over to the two lost women, it will be this.

With baited breath and unsteady hands, she rises slowly from Emma's bed and lets the glass vial drop gently into the hat without a sound. A moment passes- a mere second but it feels like forever- and then things begin to happen. She feels the power that ebbs into the room, crackling and electric, raising the hairs on her arms with its delicious force. The hat begins to spin, slowly at first, but then at a fever-pitch, and she takes one last look around the cold, bare stoned room before closing her eyes and letting it take her.

* * *

"You!"

Regina struggles to sit up, having landed painfully on a surface that feels cold, hard and damp beneath her exploratory fingertips. Brushing her hair vainly from her eyes and wincing at the bite of pain emanating from her abused tailbone she waits for her eyes to adjust to the near darkness, searching out the source of that all too familiar voice.

Once the sienna coals of her eyes have acclimatized to the dingy light thrown into the space she finds herself in by a singular candle, she is able to make out the dark, iron bars that separate her from the corner of the room that serves as the source of the voice.

"Snow?"

The younger woman recoils slightly at the use of her name, and the brunette can understand why. It has been a separate nightmare trying to deal with the dual realities within the town now that the curse curse has broken. Within herself it is a burden she has always carried, but for the rest of the town's inhabitants, the notion has been most disorientating.

_All magic comes with a price._

Regina gets to her feet and walks hesitantly over to the bars that line the apparent prison, head spinning a little with a sense of deja vu as she recalls approaching Mary Margaret in much the same way in the two-cell prison back in Storybrooke. The schoolteacher is pale- more so than normal- and her right eye sports a muddy scrape. Her dark hair stands messily on end and her clothes look worn and beaten. However it is her eyes that draw the Queen's attention; red and bloodshot as though she has spent a good many hours crying. The raw skin below her nose seconds this observation.

"Where are we?"

Snow blinks at her stupidly before those perfectly red lips form an angry sneer

"Like you don't know..."

The brunette looks around once more, but is no closer to an answer. She is momentarily distracted by the faint echo of banging up above and what might have been a cry, but could just be her imagination. She turns her attention back to Snow, placing her hands on the bars and staring through them at the young woman intently.

"I wouldn't be _asking_ if I did, dear. Where's Emma? What's happening?"

At this, the pale woman chokes back a sob angrily as she glares at the Queen; standing to rush forward to spit her words in the older woman's face.

"Why don't you ask your mother?"

"My mother?..."

The confusion on the brunette's face is painfully sincere and she raises an eyebrow in apprehensive question to the other woman, knowing instantly that this is anything but a good situation if her mother is involved.

"She found us... she tricked us... she was in the pit with us- Lancelot's pit- and she spoke with Emma... about Henry"

"_What_?!"

"When we got away... she found us... followed us to the old castle and took us... that's where we are now... This cell was built for Rumplestiltskin... but she threw us down here after she ambushed us... she thinks we can give her a way back to the other land... back to _you_!"

Regina balks at this, feeling a shudder work itself involuntarily through her body.

"What does she want with me?"

It is a whisper, the fear coursing through her normally rich tone almost childlike, as her eyes search Snow's. The younger woman glares back at her hatefully.

"I don't know! I don't _care_!... I don't care what she wants from _you_- whatever it is she can have it! I just want my daughter back! I want Emma back!"

"What... what do you mean? Where's Emma?"

Mary Margaret shakes her head, her eyes bright with angry tears as she controls her breathing and continues in a harsh tone

"She took her- Cora- she took her. She came down here asking for information; information _we didn't have_. She threatened us and toyed with us and did everything she could think of to get her way; to get us to talk. I told her- _we_ told her- we didn't know how to get back to that other land... She got tired of 'games'... The_ Savior_ had been prophesied to break the curse and it came to throughition... She thinks Emma knows how to get back to Stroybrooke...to you"

"How could she know!? She barely knows who _she_ is! What is that woman going to know about the ways of magic?"

"... nothing"

"So... what...?"

"Your mother believes her silence is obstinacy... she believes she can get the 'Savior' to talk"

"But she doesn't know anything!"

"That's what I'm worried about..."

Regina regards Snow somberly through the bars, resting her forehead on the cool iron with a wince. Of all the places she was expecting to come out, this is a scenario for which she is ill-prepared. Eyeing the bloody scrape on the pale woman's face she struggles to remind herself that the woman currently bearing the brunt of her mother's wrath is toxic. Hateful. The source of months of contempt.

_She helped you when no one else would._

True. But only because she'd made a promise to their son. _Her_ son. Nevertheless, the brunette can't help the nauseating fear that creeps loathsomely around the pit of her stomach. Wishing the blonde gone and knowing the results that have come from her mother's rage are two very different things, and if she wishes her son to take her back, she needs to find Emma before her mother tires of playing twenty questions.

She refuses to entertain the possibility that this has happened already.

"Where did she take her? Are they still in the castle?"

"I don't-"

A blood-curdling shriek echoes distantly yet hauntingly over the wet stone walls, causing the two to jump. Regina looks at the younger woman in shock as Snow closes her eyes as tight as she possibly can

"-Yes... they're still in the castle"

* * *

The destruction she leaves in her wake could have been- for the most part- avoided, but the nervous energy flowing through the Queen's veins makes her careless and she renders the guards before her unconscious without a second thought as she makes her way unsurely around the castle. On the third floor she comes across the destroyed wardrobe in that long abandoned nursery; the charred remnants scattered across the time-dirtied floor.

"Oh..."

She listens out acutely for a hint as to her mother's whereabouts, but so far has been rewarded with very little. She supposes in way this is favorable as she still can't quite seem to shake the harrowing scream heard when down in the dungeon. A part of her mind busies itself in repeating nervously that the noise could not possibly have come from Emma, while another part asks the question, just as repetitively, of why she should care if it had.

Henry. That's why.

As she begins to think her search to be fruitless, a turn into the centre hall of the castle has her suddenly accosted with the low murmur of a voice she would recognize anywhere. Shrinking close to the tapestried wall, she removes her Italian crafted stilettos so as to refrain from making the slightest of sounds as she pads onwards on seamless-stockinged feet. She despises hiding this way; crawling around on her underbelly in the shadows, but the rich sing-song tone of her mother's voice that resonates quietly off the walls bring back enough memories to have her ignoring this particular strain of distaste.

As she creeps closer to the Crowned Court; hall that plays residence to the infamous round table, she is able to distinguish words from the low murmuring

"Come on, dear, I don't like this any more than you do... but we've been over this! All I want is for you to be a good girl... All I want is your cooperation... I don't_ want_ to hurt you... but you make it necessary, and that saddens me!... Look... we're both tired, I know... _Look at me when I speak to you!_... We're both tired... so why not stop this foolishness? Hmm?"

Her mother's voice is syrupy sweet as it washes over her in a way that makes her feel unclean. Regina shudders and closes the distance to the large arched door that stands slightly ajar, holding her breath as she peers warily into the glowing crescent of light. What she sees makes her mouth go dry; the resulting taste of copper making her want to double up and dry heave.

Her mother stands in the centre of the room; royal purple robes moulded lovingly to her aging body. She has the sleeves rolled back as though preforming a particularly strenuous manual task and her cheeks are alight with twin spots of pink excitement. She stands with her back to the door, but Regina knows those chocolate brown eyes will be glittering feverishly under hooded lids as she smiles down at Emma who sits with her back slumped against the far wall. At first glance the younger woman's posture could be mistaken for casual, perhaps even disrespectful given her company, but her eyes are closed and her breathing is rapid- sobbing- and her dust-covered form trembles. A thin trickle of blood that looks almost black from the Queen's vantage point flows sickly from her nose to seep at the corner of her mouth and the knees of her jeans are ripped and bloody.

"Emma, Emma, Emma, why must it come down to this? Why can't you just be _good_? What _purpose_ is all this insolence serving? Who are you hoping to protect? Henry? I give you my _word_ I will not touch the boy... All I want is to see my daughter... A mother and daughter's bond is _precious_... you of all people should know that... Now tell me what I want to know! _How do I find her_?!"

"I... Don't... Know"

"Wrong answer"

Cora remains completely still, seemingly in thought over how best to tackle her current problem. Regina knows better however, and despite the older woman making no move towards her whatsoever, the blonde's sobbing breath becomes louder as her eyes crack open to regard the witch frightfully, fingers spasming feverishly against stone as a second freshet of blood begins to stream from lips pulled back in unseen agony.

"Please... stop"

"I will stop when you start behaving yourself!"

"_I can't tell you something I don't fucking know!_"

She barks her words out, baring her teeth angrily at the woman before her, and Regina is momentarily transfixed with morbid curiosity as she wonders if her mother has ever been spoken to in such a way. Emma's normally bright white teeth- so adept at sneering and scoffing- are coated with sickly red saliva, and Cora cries out angrily at what she is positive is a bold-faced lie.

"I have tried to play nice, you worthless little bitch, but I'm getting tired of listening to you lie through those pretty little teeth of yours... I will ask you _one more time_, and if you don't want that charming smile ruined for good, I suggest you quit this futile act and give me what I want!"

She stalks over to the crumpled heap on the floor with predatory purpose and leans close to hiss into the younger woman's pale, fear-filled face.

"How do I get back to your world?"

Bloodied lips open and close but form no sound. Closing her eyes, Emma merely shakes her head defeatedly, struggling to string together any sentence that isn't 'I don't know'. Never before has she felt she's known so little, and the fact that it is at a time when her life could well hang in the balance causes a weak ironic smile to touch the corner of her mouth involuntarily.

Not a good idea.

Despite everything that has happened up until that moment, the blonde is still perplexed as she feels her body leave the floor- the sensation of floating not nearly as enjoyable as various television shows had promised it to be.

It is quick, just a flick of a well-practiced hand and the younger woman is thrown backwards into the stone slabs behind her. There is a sickening crack of bone on rock as Emma's skull smacks backwards into the brickwork. Her head lolls instantly- limp- as Cora keeps her suspended for a moment before discarding her to the floor like trash. She makes her way over, almost casually and reaches down to place a hand over the blonde's slightly dirt-stained chest.

_"Don't!"_

Cora's head snaps up sharply, sure she recognizes the voice. She has little time to think on it however as the owner jumps on her; much closer than anticipated.

The taking of the heart is quick, as if simply preformed as a reflex. Regina holds the glowing organ in her hand, mind-reeling as the woman below her claws weakly at her extended arm; powerful face suddenly haggard with understanding.

"I always hated it when you used magic, mother"

She sheds a tear as she crushes the heart into dust, much the same as she had shed a tear over her father all those years ago, but the feelings behind the solitary droplet couldn't be more different.

"I always swore I'd never become like you... Never let magic corrupt me the way it did you... but you _ruined_ me... you took away my chance at a happy ending..."

She lets the dark ash fall from her hand to scatter over the lifeless form she still resides over, before wiping it repetitively on her skirt, trying to rid her fingers of the dusty residue. With a business-like sniff and a shaky hand dragging through her hair she makes her way hesitantly over to the blonde's body that lies crumpled where she fell. Kneeling down primly on the hard stone of the floor, Regina hesitantly places a hand on a bare, lightly freckled shoulder and shakes gently.

Rewarded no response she tightens her hold and pulls Emma over until she lies on her back, brushing away the long tendrils of cornsilk that cover her battered face. She lowers herself till she's nose to nose with the lifeless blonde and stares into closed eyes intently as she raises a hand to feel for breath. Finally feeling the faint flutter of air against her hand she sits back on her knees and closes her eyes, taking a deep breath and trying to decide what to do.

A soft moan brings her back to the present as Emma begins to move her head in a distracted manner, battling to regain consciousness. Regina notices the thin stream of blood dripping from the Sheriff's ear with mild alarm and raises her voice sternly

"Stop moving, Miss Swan"

Ever true to character, the younger woman's thrashing increases as green eyes flutter open and she looks up at the brunette blearily.

"Wha... hap'nd"

Her voice comes out in a croak as the blood from her mouth has started to clot uncomfortably. Her disorientated mind makes the senseless connection between the dark woman kneeling over her and cool apple cider and she licks her lips hopefully.

"You swore at my mother... definitely not your best move"

"I feel like... I fell like I've been hit by a truck"

"You look it, too"

Regina pulls a silk white handkerchief from her breast-pocket and wets a corner with her tongue, swiping the damp fabric gently over the blonde's upper lip and chin to wipe away the drying trails of blood.

"Gross!"

Emma wrinkles her nose as Regina continues to wipe at her with her spit-wetted handkerchief causing the brunette to roll her eyes and come to the conclusion that, even with possible brain damage and blood seeping from her damn ear, the blonde remains as contrary as ever. She is quick to catch the infuriating women in her act though as that all too familiar smirk turns into a grimace of pain.

"I mean it! Hold still, who knows what she's broken!"

The worry in the brunette's voice seeps slowly through the pain working it's way blindingly at the Sheriff's thoughts and she can't help but feel a little comforted by it, regardless of the fact that she's coherent enough to know she's more than likely imagining such things. It's almost motherly.

"Oh god, Mary Margaret! Where is she?!"

"Hold still! She's fine dear... it's _myself_ I worry about when she sees the state of you"

"How did you... how _did_ you get here? How-"

Pain begins to steadily beat down the initial numbness she'd been blessed with upon wakening and the blonde's words are alternated with harsh gasps as her eyes squeeze shut in a futile attempt to block it out. Regina places a finger firmly on bloodied lips to silence her.

"Let's not start that again, dear. First let me sort you out and then we'll get to the story-telling"

"But-"

"-No buts"

Emma mutters as darkness threatens to swallow her mercifully and stop the aching that seems to be coming from just about everywhere.

"Whatever you say, your majesty".


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: **_Wow, first off, thanks for the response to the first part of this story. I had originally just planned on leaving it as a one-shot, although I realise I neglected to mention this... however I was really pleasantly surprised by the amount of lovely people that decided to follow the story (thanks!) and I didn't want to leave you all hanging! Fortunately, the storyline seems to be carrying itself; most of this being written on the back on an invoice at work today. As always, enjoy, and if you do, maybe let me know by leaving a review! _

Despite the old ways of the Enchanted Forest often seeming dated and obsolete, the Queen can't help but appreciate her surroundings, as this now plays in her favor. It is a land ravaged by a monarchy into which its inhabitants place not trust, but dependence, thus upon witnessing the current ruler of the castle to be lying dead on the cold, stone floor, the inhabitants who scurry in the darkness accept her as their new leading force without question. She is their Queen.

Regina watches blankly as two armed guards proceed hesitantly into the large hall in which she still kneels, and gives just the faintest of nods as strong hands pick up the suddenly fragile frame of her mother and carry her respectfully out to be dealt with in an according fashion. A third makes his way towards the brunette, bowing low and keeping his eyes trained to the floor.

"Your Majesty, shall I take this one?"

She frowns in confusion and then her eyes flicker down to the pale form lying before her and she shakes her head.

"No, I don't wish to move her as I don't yet know what injuries she has sustained. Fetch me your healer"

"My Queen, we no longer have a healer; Cora used her powers to aid those of us who deserved it"

"Then get me some soap and water and whatever dressings you have"

"As you wish"

Regina sighs and calls after the retreating man with an irritated afterthought

"And bring up the girl from the dungeon; but leave her hands tied"

He bows low once more and makes his way quickly from the room. The brunette muses that the way others act when in her presence barely differs, whether it be here or in Stroybrooke. No one ever wishes to be around her for long. Except the blonde. She had refused to scurry away even when it would have been highly advisory that she do so.

"Ever the pain in the ass, aren't you dear?"

Of course she is met with no reply, and she comes to the conclusion that unconscious is the form in which she likes Emma best.

She begins the unnerving task of gently running her hands over the blonde's body; feeling apprehensively for any broken bones. However irritating the Sheriff may be, her lithe frame makes the job a little easier; any injuries clear without an ounce of fat to disguise them. The brunette tries to recall ever witnessing Emma doing any form of exercise other than running her mouth, but can only conjure up memories of the woman happily filling her face with junk food. She hazards a guess that attitudes can be deceiving; pegging the blonde as an early morning runner, lest anyone think she was anything other than a delinquent grouch.

"A peculiar pain in the ass at that"

Her head snaps up as she hears a commotion from outside in the hall, before the heavy wooden door bursts open and Snow enters the room like a whirlwind.

"Emma!"

The schoolteacher falls onto her knees heavily- her bound hands making a smooth landing difficult- and peers down at the blonde with saucer-like eyes. Extending her hands she moves to idiotically shake her daughter, only to have them slapped angrily away.

"Don't touch her, you could end up making it worse!"

Snow glares at her, but does as she's told, sufficing for now with stroking a stray curl of blonde hair again and again through her fingers.

"What- what happened... your mother, where is she? What if she-"

"Dead"

"Wh-what?"

Irritatingly familiar green eyes blink up at her stupidly as the once disgraced princess gasps in open mouthed confusion. Regina merely nods, and goes back to running her fingers methodically down the blonde's arm, wrinkling her nose a little as her hand slips across slick blood at her evidently injured elbow.

"Dead... did _Emma_...?"

"No, but my mother was close to dishing her out a similar fate"

"You... you saved her? Emma? You _killed Cora_ to save her?"

Regina senses the battle playing out through the younger woman's words. A hopeless stalemate between suspicion and disbelief. She shoves the resulting twinge of hurt away roughly and merely sniffs as if disinterested by such questions.

"I did it for a number of reasons"

She ignores the dark haired woman sat beside her as she continues slowly and methodically prodding at the blonde. She feels slightly self conscious with the doting mother watching her every move and tries to tune out the low-pitched anxious keening in her left ear; sure that Snow isn't aware she's even making the noise. She grimaces slightly as she runs the flat of her hand over the taught muscle of the Sheriff's midsection; her fingers upon scaling the delicate cage of her ribs finding them uneven and surely cracked and broken.

"Damn"

She plucks the soiled black tank from Emma's stomach and shucks it up over her bra to reveal angry purple thunder bruising her left side like midnight. Snow let's out an anguished cry and the brunette shuts her eyes, wishing the damn woman would shut the hell up and let her concentrate.

"Oh my god!"

"Shush, it's just a couple of broken ribs"

She snaps at the schoolteacher with a false sense of surety. Snow, however, remains staring at the pale expanse of abused flesh with eyes so wide the entire iris is surrounded whitely.

"A couple of broken... she looks like she's been hit by a truck!"

"She said much the same thing"

"You spoke to her? She was _conscious_ like this?! Oh god... what... what are you doing? Why aren't you healing her? Don't you have magic here?!"

Regina grits her teeth irritably and turns to Snow

"It doesn't work that way! I can't just wave a magic wand or kiss it all better! I can't fix her unless I know what's broken... I have to be able to target the injuries; to see them in my mind so that I can command the bones and tissue to do what they need to... and _this_ is, well, _difficult_ for me... I have healed many a wound or ailment, but this is for the most part internal... I'm working off feel alone... and... I'm afraid to attempt some of her injuries when she can't talk to me... when she can't tell me if something feels wrong"

Snow recoils back from the angered bark of the Queen. There is a fear in the older woman's voice that disquiets her mind as the emotion sits foreign in that otherwise sultry drawl.

"It's bad though... isn't it?"

Regina studies her out of the corner of her eye, irritably, but Snow's attention is back on the pale, drawn face of the blonde, her lashes thick with tears threatening to fall. The brunette sighs; finishing her examination to Emma's front once concluding that, whilst badly grazed at the knee, her legs don't seem to have sustained any damage to the bone. She motions that the pale woman should help her roll the blonde onto her side, nodding for her to remain holding up a skinny shoulder as she runs her hand beneath the space created; apprehensive as it is the back of her body with which Emma had collided with the stonewall. Fingers feeling their way down a well-defined spine, she murmurs her greatest worry in a low tone, dark eyes finding Snow's and conveying within them the seriousness of the matter

"There was blood coming from her ear... not a lot of it, and when she spoke she seemed coherent enough...most probably it is the result of a cracked skull...but I can't be certain... I can fix her ribs... her pelvis appears fractured at the back here as well... I can mend the bone, and the lacerations to her knees and elbows will require cleaning and dressing in the regular way... but I will not use magic on her skull- however badly I'm sure she would benefit from a full lobotomy- without her being awake-"

"But won't she be in_ pain_?"

"I'm counting on it; pain is a brilliant constant; should she suddenly feel more of it or less of it, I need her to be able to tell me so right away"

With that she motions for Snow to lower the blonde back down onto her back and calls abruptly for aid; two faceless guards appearing instantly as if from nowhere. She instructs them to take Emma to one of the upstairs bed chambers; demanding they take every care possible and for them then to return and instruct her on where the blonde is to be found and where the hell the water and dressings have got to. They bow low, gingerly lifting the Sheriff between them as Snow gets up to follow. Regina extends a hand to hold her at bay, ignoring the angry flash that befalls her from nervous green eyes.

"Your talents reside in words, not in magic, Snow. We need to find out what exactly my mother has been up to here, and to be sure that we can trust those around us"

Snow glares at her pointedly at this and the Queen sighs impatiently; waving her hand as if in dismissal

"For now we are on the same side; do what you do best and find out where our allies lie"

"No... I_ won't_ leave her alone, not again"

"She isn't _going_ to be alone!"

"And I'm supposed to feel better in the knowledge that she's with _you_!?"

"As long as Henry lives, I will not allow any harm to come to her"

"Oh _really_! Well that's worked out just fine so far! She's _unconscious_!"

"And my mother is _dead_!"

They stand dangerously close, breathing erratic as rage crackles between them electrically. Finally Snow backs down and takes a physical step backwards. Bringing herself under control she manages a curt nod to the older woman, pulling her cardigan tighter to her soft form, her shoulders dropping slightly in defeat.

"Just make sure she's ok..."

"On that, I can give you my word"

* * *

With darkness settling in over the castle, the Queen lights the impressive chandelier that watches over the small, surprisingly cozy room with a flick of her wrist; old habits returning as if only practiced yesterday. She draws the heavy velvet curtains so that just an inch of ink-blue sky breaks through, a pale sliver of moon hanging low over distant trees. Casting a final glance at its serene reflection in the dark water that surrounds the castle, she turns back to the understated bed that centers the room and watches the slow rise and fall of the Savior's chest.

The room is small compared to the others she has passed in the castle, and she wonders idly if her guards have chosen it as the place to lie the blonde down due to its clear servant's status. She guesses this to be probable, but doesn't give the thought any grievance. The lack of royal presence in the room and the certainty that it has played host to neither Snow nor her Charming is favorable to the Queen, and she sets herself to work unraveling the heavy cloth that holds the various ointments and instruments left for her. Once laid neatly out on the garnet-red throw to the side of the lifeless form on the bed, she picks up a small pair of scissors- fashioned to cut gauze and bandages- and opens and closes them as if rehearsing.

The silver blades catch the light sharply, and she deems them suitable, proceeding to snip a perfectly straight line through the dirty fabric of the blonde's top; from the hem that falls just over the waistband of her jeans up to the low-scooped neck. She peels the dirty fabric apart, exposing a surprisingly feminine bra- mostly black, but delicate and adorned with a fine repeat print depicting golden butterflies- and the mottled bruising that mars the soft skin of the blonde's torso. Deciding to work with a relatively blank canvas, she moves down to the stiff denim of Emma's jeans and snips away at the fabric until it falls, ruined, away from her slender form, leaving her in just her underwear; the damage inflicted upon her lithe frame exposed for scrutiny and distaste.

"Miss Swan?"

Regina looms in close to the blonde, her voice sharp and jarringly loud in the otherwise silent room, but the sooty eyelashes she peers down upon don't even flicker. Unconvinced, the brunette readies manicured fingers and flicks the tip of the younger woman's curiously defined nose.

Still nothing.

Rubbing her hands together and feeling a little like a child performing a piece of music or dance in front of an audience for which they haven't done the necessary practice, Regina places her palms gently on the pale skin of the blonde's battered ribs and squeezes her eyes shut as she conjures up a mental image of the fragile bones beneath her fingers.

She works painstakingly slowly; picturing each smoothly curved bone and knitting together the fractured shards accordingly. The flesh beneath her palms twitches and moves nauseatingly as she works, but she tries to pay the disconcerting feeling no mind; concentrating only on getting the job done.

Once she reaches the bottom of the younger woman's ribcage- her fingers descending gently into the dip created at its finish- she opens her eyes and marvels at her work. The skin that stretches over fragile bones remains painful to look at, but the pleasant ripple of bone beneath flesh is soft and even, as it should be.

With growing confidence she lets her hands travel down over the muscular planes of the blonde's stomach and rests her hands on the peaks created by her hipbones; the gentle slope they create pulling the material of her black cotton underwear taught, resulting in a line of shadow falling where fabric hovers a little over flesh. She imagines the shape those sharp crests make as they curve around the back of the Sheriff's body and lets her mind work once more to restore the perfect symmetry once found there.

Structural work done, the Queen leans down towards Emma again and tries using her voice to rouse her. She is rewarded no verbal response but notices a small tick beneath delicately veined lids as the blonde seems to respond to her name filtering through whatever darkness whirls beyond those dark lashes. The movement, however faint, is a positive sign and Regina absently goes about removing a limp curl from the Sheriff's forehead, proceeding to busy herself blotting tufted cotton with clear, strong-smelling alcohol in preparation to attack the broken skin at ravaged limbs.

It is as she swipes firmly at the lacerations marring the blonde's elbow that the latter gives a low groan, causing the brunette to jump and press down on a particularly nasty cut painfully.

"F-uck"

Regina composes herself quickly, and instantly reminds the younger woman not to move; advice that goes ignored as Emma feels like her ribs and hips are on fire. She moves to claw at the affected areas fitfully, paying the bleeding gashes littering her elbow and knees no mind. The Queen grabs her forearms swiftly and bares down towards slowly blinking eyes and repeats her warning firmly.

"Don't move!"

"It _hurts_!"

There is no argument present in the blonde's husky complaint, merely audible fear at the pain emanating from abused bones and the Queen runs a cool hand over her feverishly warm cheek in an uncharacteristically soothing manner.

"Re-knitting bone together will do that"

"Re... what?"

"Shh... Don't ask so many questions, try to calm down... you sustained fractures to your ribs and hips, I've mended them as best I can, and over time they will fully heal, but the pain is to be expected, I can not eradicate the trauma to the surrounding tissue"

"Mended them... like.. with magic?"

"Yes, Miss Swan, with magic"

"... _holy_ _shit_"

Plump lips form a dry smile down at the blonde and she goes back to her work on Emma's elbow; holding the younger woman's arm tightly in her free hand to combat the jerks and spasms in retaliation to the stinging of the alcohol now that the Sheriff is conscious.

"Holy shit is right"

Groaning, Emma blinks repeatedly, trying to rid herself of the red-tinged blur that clouds her vision, but the motion sends shockwaves of pain into her skull. She has suffered a good many hang-overs and has been knocked out twice before in her life, but the agony of the headache currently threatening to turn her brain to mush is like nothing she has ever witnessed.

"My head's_ killing_ me"

Regina regards her seriously, not missing the hitch in the blonde's breath or the weakness in her voice, and nods her head knowingly.

"That's what I was afraid of... and now that you're up, I'm afraid things might be about to get worse before they get better"


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **_Please let me know what you think- this chapter is hugely dialogue driven which isn't my forte, not to mention the dialogue is kinder than that shared between these two on the show due to the current situation, so I hope I haven't butchered this up too badly! Either way, thanks for reading!_

"Ow! _fuck!_ You're doing that on purpose!"

Regina rolls her eyes, her forehead beaded with sweat as she leans over the thrashing blonde, her fingers buried deep within thick curls.

"I haven't even _started_ yet, you idiotic woman, but keep squirming and I might get ideas! Honestly, Miss Swan, quit acting like such a baby!"

She keeps her tone purposefully disdainful and predictably it garners her the result she needs. Emma clenches her teeth and grips clammily at the throw beneath her, glaring up at the woman hovering above her like a bad omen, but at least she stills.

"I'm not sure you're _allowed_ an opinion until you get thrown against a wall"

"Oh shush, as far as I can tell it's just a fracture"

"Oh good, _just_ a skull-fracture, I was worried it was going to be something serious"

She grumbles irritably, but there is something amiable in the way the Sheriff quips up at the Queen, and in a peculiar way, the familiarity of their snide remarks towards one another is almost comforting. Spotting the maroon track trailing the blonde's pale skin from ear to jaw, Regina softens slightly. She may have little time for troublesome woman, but she knows pain when she sees it, having been dealt her fair share of it. She reallocates her attention to the hard bone beneath her fingers, carrying on in a gentler tone

"It could have been worse... I watched you hit the wall, and I wasn't sure if you were... she used a great deal of force"

"...Where is she now?"

"Taken care of"

Mercifully her vague comment is met with silence and the brunette apprehensively allows a small wave of power to emanate from her fingertips which still gently cradle the younger woman's head. Emma lets out a pained hiss, but remains rigidly still, closing her eyes as she feels them threatening to water. Her face is chalky; perspiration giving her features a sickly sheen. Regina watches her like a hawk as she works, taking in every twitch and sharp intake of breath; ready to pull away instantly if needed.

Although the silence helps her concentrate, the Mayor becomes progressively worried that Emma's stubborn streak is stopping her from letting on any important increase in pain. She is sure that should the blonde suddenly simply lose feeling or become aware of any unexpected sensations she'd _happily_ sark and complain for as long as the brunette was able to resist smothering her with one of the plump, over-stuffed pillows, but pain; she suspects the blonde's pride could be damaging in itself, particularly after her own disdainful goading. Clearing her throat awkwardly she searches in vain for a topic of conversation; wanting to keep the younger woman vocal as an audible gage to her condition.

"Snow mentioned you told my mother about Henry?"

"Just his name... and our 'situation'..."

"I'm intrigued to know how _that_ was described"

"I told her it was complicated"

"Now _there's_ an understatement"

"Well... it sums things up in a word, I didn't exactly get to having a sit down meal with her to discuss the ins and outs of things... we didn't get along too well, as you may have noticed"

"I did pick up on it, yes... still... 'complicated'? It kind of throws a dampener over the impact of the whole indulging my son in the belief that I'm pure evil thing, and the fact that you have been fighting me tooth and nail for god knows how long"

"As I said, it was just mere pleasantries..."

"Hmmm"

"...And I don't... just so you know... I probably indulged Henry more than I should have with his book- though I guess now everything's come to light, I shouldn't beat myself up about _that_ too much, but rather for doubting him... but it was _crazy!_ You know?...- but... I have never thought of you as... well... _evil_"

"Is that so?"

Regina keeps her tone light, speaking as though whatever answer the blonde may give bares little interest. She is grateful the younger woman still has her eyes clamped shut, however, as she is sure her cheeks are tinged with pink and that the painful curiosity she is able to keep out of her voice is prominently evident on her face. Emma merely frowns, as though she finds the question to be odd. No, not odd; obsolete.

"Of course not! Don't get me wrong; I still think you're a bitch... At least you were to me, and that filtered down to Henry more than it should have... But, you care for Henry; all you _ever_ did was take care of him, however weirdly you'd go about doing it... I _did_ tell him that... what it comes down to is; you don't like me- and you're probably not alone- that hardly makes you 'evil'... regardless of what the book says"

"...I see"

The Queen stares down at the Sheriff warily. Emma's words surprise her; they have been battling each other for so long that she'd almost forgotten there even being a bigger picture. A world beyond just the two of them.

"Of course I revisited my opinion _slightly_ after you attempted to_ poison_ me... that _was_ pretty evil"

Incredulously, there is a small hint of amusement in the Sheriff's pain-strained voice and Regina lets out a dry chuckle in surprise.

"But you didn't mean for Henry to eat that apple pastry or whatever it was-"

"-turnover"

"Whatever... You know, your mother said something interesting when we were down in the pit"

"I'll bet she said many interesting things"

"Maybe, I sort of tuned her out when it started to stink of bullshit"

"Of course you did, dear"

"She said that we needn't fear her... once we found out who she was I mean... she said that the apple fell very far from the tree"

"Well as you said yourself, she was full of it"

"No, that part was true"

"Sorry?"

"You two are nothing alike"

"Oh... and how do you figure that, Miss Swan?"

"Were you not listening to what I _just_ said? You're not evil... well... not like that"

The brunette unexpectedly feels an uncustomary prickle behind her eyes and blinks it away furiously. She sniffs quietly and continues her intricate work, studying the Sheriff as though she were a particularly curious specimen. She supposes this description is apt.

"I think, Miss Swan, that you may be talking about something about which you know nothing"

"Maybe... but I'm pretty good at reading people"

"_Really_, dear? Pardon me for saying so but you have perhaps the _worst_ judgement in character of anyone I have ever met"

"Well then, I'm due getting this one right!"

Regina grins despite herself, grateful the blonde still has her eyes firmly clamped shut. She hates to admit it, even to herself, but this is the most at ease she's felt since the curse has broken. She has missed the younger woman's drawling sarcasm; the way it makes her want to gouge her pretty green eyes out with her thumbs, yet excites her in a way only magic has been able to before.

They are well matched in character- however negatively- this the Queen is willing to admit.

"_Ah_! Fuck!"

"Not much longer, now"

She speaks the truth; she can feel most of her work is done, but she inwardly lectures herself not to get hasty now the end is in sight. She proceeds methodically, trying to ignore the soft, humming moans the blonde keeps trapped behind her lips. As the minutes drag by she becomes slowly more sure of herself.

"How's Henry?"

The Sheriff chokes the question out, her voice suddenly strained and the Queen notices a rapid increase in her breathing. She dims the force being sent into the blonde to a bare minimum, concerned at the abrupt change in Emma's demeanor.

"Miss Swan, are you-"

"I'm f-fine... _Please_, just tell me about Henry"

Regina hesitates momentarily before continuing her work at her original pace, injecting her voice with false confidence

"He's fine... well, no, not fine; he misses you and your mother a great deal... your father's looking after him for now"

"...Oh _god_!"

"_What?_ What is it?!"

The brunette quells her power instantly at the Sheriff's moan; raptly studying her for any signs of deterioration. Her harsh tone rouses the blonde to open her eyes, and she winces up at the older woman in a way that could almost be considered apologetic.

"Nothing! Nothing, I'm fine.. Well... hardly, but I can deal with the pain... it's just... let's just call them Mary Margaret and David, ok?"

Regina smirks as she finishes up, carefully withdrawing her hands from slightly sweat-dampened hair and bending and flexing her cramping fingers as she remains perched on the side of the bed, looking down at the blonde.

"Ah, I see... not quite ready to accept _that_ small bombshell"

"That's putting it lightly"

"And here I thought you'd be thrilled to be reunited with your parents..."

"...I wish people would stop saying that... I'm happy I can stop wondering, but that's about as far as my joy goes just now... It's like suddenly we're supposed to be this happy family, and never _mind_ the fact I spent twenty-eight years thinking no one gave a shit"

"You're angry"

"No- I _was_... but seeing this place... what you took away from them... I'm not angry, not anymore- but I _am_ human. Things aren't suddenly all ok. They don't seem to get that"

"They finally have their happy ending"

"I know... and that's great. That's great for Snow White and Prince Charming, but in the world _I_ grew up in, a happy ending is something men pay extra for at a massage parlor"

Regina snorts lightly at this and gently tucks an escaped tuft of bandage neatly back in place at Emma's knee. Lying with her eyes frowned shut; bare-faced and stretched out in her underwear the blonde looks younger somehow. Her tone is moody, and despite her words, she is momentarily every bit the sullen child angry at their parents.

"What a charming visual"

"It's just a lot to take in... Princes and princesses and all that... I kind of envisaged if I ever found my parents, and they wanted to see me, we would spend an awkward dinner in complicated silence in some relatively nice but not too pricey steakhouse"

"Well, now, _that's_ an incredibly moving scenario..."

"I knew it would be awkward... given that they didn't want me in the first place... and now.. I _should_ be happy; because it turns out they_ did_ want me.. and... when Henry told me who they were I didn't believe him, I mean, how could I? But things were all so crazy, and a part of me couldn't help but allow myself to at least wonder... and I'd get so angry"

"For believing?"

"For the most part yes; how was I supposed to be a good moth-... role-model for Henry if I couldn't tell the difference between fantasy and reality any better than he could..."

The Mayor quirks an eyebrow as the blonde strives to correct her wording. Whether it is simply an instinctual remainder of Emma's fear to commit or a response to the Queen's own display of kindness she is unsure. Either way it results in a warmth within her that causes her to regard the younger woman with a patience previously absent in their interactions.

"I guess I was angry at myself for getting my hopes up too"

Emma closes her eyes as she continues. Her entire body aches and her mind feels like a rotten tooth in the cavern of her skull and she is tempted to simply rip it out. Despite her discomfort, however, there is something healing in talking to Regina. They have been at odds with each other a long time, but in this have formed a peculiar understanding of each other. She doesn't go on to tell the older woman the source of her mind's worries and disturbances in the belief that she will be shown compassion, but more because- however strange it may be- she knows she will simply be understood.

"Mary Margaret was good to me... much kinder than I probably deserved... but then that's just her nature... still, you know _my_ nature, and I don't really make friends all that easily as I'm sure you would happily contend with... I never had anyone be there for me like she was, and then when Henry would go on and on about why we had this, I don't know... 'connection', a part of me wanted to pretend it wasn't completely crazy..."

"Well, these things take time"

"To get your head around the fact your mom's Snow White? As in; sings to birds and lives with seven personality-defined midgets? _Yeah_!"

"Well... as you're aware; her situation isn't exactly the way Disney portrayed it"

"No... and a part of me- the sane part- still just thinks of her as Mary Margaret... but with... with David"

"Ah, the valiant Prince! Something tells me that one's a little harder to swallow"

"Oh, no, I can _believe_ it... Snow White is pretty much the breaking point- I accepted _that_ so I'm pretty much not going to be surprised at anything else- it's just... at least with Mary Margaret I had an actual relationship... with David, he's just this _guy_. And not even a guy I particularly liked; he's an adulterer that repeatedly hurt my closest friend and didn't seem for the life of him to understand boundaries as far as _that_ was concerned... then suddenly I'm being pulled into some loving embrace and I'm supposed to smile up at him and call him dad?"

Emma lets out an exhausted sigh and descends into silence. The brunette mulls over her words thoughtfully; the Sheriff's take on events never having crossed her mind. The air between them is suddenly awkward as both become aware that they were just moments ago having what could be called a civil conversation. Regina primly packs away the various instruments with which she had patched up the blonde's lacerations and grazes and places them on the small stool at the side of the bed. Looking back at the Sheriff she tries to quell the emotions that threaten to come up as her eyes travel the crude bruising flowering from beneath various bandages.

"How's the pain?"

"okay"

The edge to the younger woman's voice says otherwise but Regina simply nods and runs her hands distractedly though her hair. She realises irritably that the blonde lays on top of the throws and bedding; the fact brought to her attention as she pulls her jacket tighter to her slender frame against the night's chill air.

"We should get you under these blankets"

"Are you trying to get me into bed, Madame Mayor?"

Regina rolls her eyes and pulls at the blonde's hands, trying to guide her at least partially off the bed so as to free the covers below her. A sharp yelp, as pain shoots through the Sheriff's hips and ribs causes her to let go and wait anxiously while the younger woman tries to catch her breath; arms cradling her abdomen protectively. Once Emma appears to unclench, the Mayor tentatively offers her an arm in support to try again, but after a few minute movements the sheen of perspiration on the blonde's forehead and the alarmingly gray pallor to her skin have the brunette telling her firmly to lie still.

"Wait here, I'll see if I can find a blanket from another room"

"I'm hardly likely to _go_ anywhere, am I?"

The retort comes through clenched teeth, and despite the reassuringly characteristic sarcasm, the Queen concludes Emma looks as though she may be either about to vomit or pass out. Without thinking about it she runs her hand gently down a bruised, clammy arm and squeezes the blonde's hand reassuringly before hastily removing her fingers, as though only suddenly aware of who it is she is touching.

"Why don't you try resting your mouth as well as your body, dear"

She is met with little response; Emma seemingly preoccupied with trying to block out the gnawing pain to her abused limbs. Shrugging, she slips out of the room, only now aware of the fact she has misplaced her heels somewhere during the afternoon's chaos, as the cold chill of the marble bites mercilessly at her nylon covered soles.

She tries the doors along the hallway hesitantly; muscles alight with adrenaline; prepared for combat if needed. She comes across no one however, and the first two doors she tries are locked. The third leads to a small washroom, this too evidently meant for servant use. She finds a collection of small cups on a shelf by the sink. She suspects they are in actual fact meant to house candles if their shape is anything to go by, but she reaches out for two and fills them with water from the rusty tap before continuing her search.

At the end of the long corridor she finds a room left unlocked and quickly strips the bed- slightly smaller than the one in the room in which she has left Emma- of it's throw and bottom blanket. Bundling the slightly coarse material under her arm, she pads lightly back to Emma's room with the cups of water balanced easily in her hands.

Upon opening the door, she almost drops the makeshift cups in the shock of taking in the full picture before her. The blonde's complexion is alarmingly pale, bringing harsh attention to her injuries. Composing herself, Regina treads closer, apprehensively holding her breath while trying to convince herself that she is not, in fact, waiting for the rise and fall of the Sheriff's chest. Finally, upon witnessing several pained breaths, she relaxes; mentally scolding herself and placing the cups on the stool next to the packed up bandages.

"Emma?"

The blonde's name feels foreign on her tongue, especially when uttered without a generous helping of dripping disdain. The Sheriff's eyelashes flicker in acknowledgement but she remains otherwise withdrawn. Regina gently pulls the thick blanket over her pale form, before spreading the quilted throw on top. She perches awkwardly back on the bed.

"I bought water if you want any?"

Emma begins to shake her head but hisses miserably at the sharp pain this results in.

"N...o"

The Mayor resists the urge to insist at the blonde that she really_ should_ have something to drink, and instead just takes a compensatory sip from her own cup. She stares thoughtfully at the thin crack of moonlight spilling from between the curtains, her lids becoming heavy; physically and emotionally drained.

She is brought back to the present as Emma mumbles her name, green eyes now open to regard her with what almost looks like embarrassment.

"Can you... can you do something?... For the pain? Please?"

Regina's initial reaction to the weakness in the Sheriff's voice is to demand her to shut the hell up; the bright moisture in her eyes and her sickly pallor disquietingly uncharacteristic. She forcefully pushes this thought away, sure that the younger woman no more wishes to ask for help than she wishes to hear her doing so. She looks down at the blonde with a touch of kindness, shaking her head gently

"I can't, sorry... I can only fix anything broken, but my power won't take away the trauma of the injuries or the pain from the bruising caused by knitting the bone back... I will have a look when it's light to see what there is growing on the castle grounds, there may be something with a pain-killing effect or numbing agent... is it really bad?"

"...Yeah"

She sighs sombrely before despite her better judgement, the Queen adjusts herself so that she is fully on the bed, tentatively pulling the covers over her legs as she sits with her back against the solid headboard. She runs her fingers softly through tangled blonde tresses, directing her gaze purposefully ahead of her.

Finally, once the muscles in her back have begun to protest against being propped up against the unforgivingly hard surface of the headboard, she looks down to regard Emma. The blonde's eyes are shut again, but more peacefully this time, and her breathing is slow and regular. Gently removing her hand from cornsilk tangles, the Mayor delicately readjusts herself- careful not to disturb the younger woman with her movements- until she lies rigidly on her back beside the Sheriff.

She imagines sleep will be a long time in coming given her current situation, but even as she ponders this, her eyes drift softly closed and her breathing slows to match the peaceful rise and and fall of the blonde.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: **_Sorry there has been such a delay with this story, I will try to be a little more reliable in the new year. I hope you enjoy, and please make my day by leaving a comment or criticism. Happy New Year, lovely internet people!_

* * *

As the mottled pink light of dawn filters softly through the crack in the curtains, Regina frowns in drowsy confusion as she struggles to recall her surroundings. Stretching out her sleep-stiff limbs, her fingers brush against warm flesh beneath the blanket and she lets out a sharp intake of breath. Glancing cautiously to the side, she is accosted with a mass of blonde curls and she raises herself slowly up onto her elbow to study the Sheriff warily.

Emma's face and shoulders are all that is currently visible, but the bruising and scrapes to this meagre expanse of pale flesh is enough to solidify the current situation within the brunette's head. She imagines such marks will litter creamy skin for a good while yet, but takes solace in the fact that a hint of color appears to have returned to the blonde's cheeks.

She edges slowly from beneath the sheets; not wishing to disturb her curious bedmate as she moves. Padding lightly to the door, she throws a final glance behind her and deems the Sheriff to be very much out for the count. Sighing, she takes her leave and closes the door softly behind her.

* * *

As the brunette makes her way swiftly down the stone-floored corridor she struggles to banish the hellish concoction of emotions churning restlessly within her stomach. She has no clue what her next move should be, and is at a complete loss of how to process her current situation. She is dully aware that now should be the time for mourning, but the restless urge to form some sort of plan, hell, to form any sensical line of thought at all, battles with this bleak need maddeningly.

Coming to a halt outside the heavy door of the small bathroom so recently discovered she glances swiftly about her for any signs of life before entering the damp-ravaged room and locking the door behind her. She inspects her face in the mirror with something akin to disbelief. Her usually silky hair hangs lifelessly about her face, and her dark eyes are webbed with thin, red blossoms of blood. The skin beneath her eyes is dark and carries an oily sheen and her lips form a hard, unpainted, line.

"Good grief."

Hastily turning on the copper-tinged water from the rust speckled taps, she splashes copious cold handfuls into her face; stopping only once to take the water from her cupped palms to her mouth and proceeding to swill it around her teeth and tongue in an attempt to rid herself of the dryness brought on by sleep. Spitting it out and turning off the tap, she empties her bladder before swiftly shucking her bed-creased clothes and stepping lightly into the shower.

A bar of yellowed soap sits cracked and forlorn at the side of the taps and she picks it up with a wrinkle of her nose, proceeding to rub it vigorously in her hands so as to remove any possible remnants of its previous users. Once she is positive the soap's surface is virginal but for her own skin, she lathers herself with a thin coating of chrysanthemum scented bubbles; using the soap to wash her hair as well as her body due to the lack of shampoo and conditioner.

Drying herself off with a towel taken from the narrow airing cupboard adjacent to the sink, Regina comes to the late realization that she possesses no items of clothing save for those worn upon her arrival. With a bemused sigh, she wraps the forest green towel tightly around her slim frame and cracks open the door to survey the hallway.

Empty.

Bundling her discarded garments distractedly in her hand, she makes her way quickly back to the small bedroom in which she left the blonde; letting herself in swiftly but taking care to close the door with silent caution. She is relieved to find Emma still sound asleep, not having been over enthused at the thought of the blonde finding out about her current predicament.

It is blind hope alone that causes the Queen to tip toe her way over to the closet which stands by the window and pull open it's gnarled wooden doors, but she is rewarded with a number of dull colored garments, hung neatly upon simple metal hangers. The odds are evidently in her favor as she recognizes the majority of the fabric to belong to heavy woolen skirts, letting her know that the room's previous occupant was thankfully also female.

She opts for a long black skirt; deeming the dark grays and khakis to be reminiscent of a lower chaste. After all; she is the Queen now. Finding a plain black corset and lacing it with practiced ease over a delicate long-sleeved shirt she brushes herself down and pulls her fingers through her damp hair. She is acutely aware of the fact that she wears no underwear beneath the long black skirt, but sniffs as she decides that the day she wears another woman's underwear will be the day they lower her into the ground. Finding a pair of sensible black tights, she pulls them on to cover her bare flesh in an attempt to make herself feel less exposed.

She steals another look at the Sheriff; able to see just the sleep-serene profile of the younger woman's face from her current position and wonders briefly if she should wake the blonde. She recalls numerous scenes from a variety of shows in which doctors crowd their injured with prodding fingers and bright lights to check responses and pupil dilation. Deciding she wouldn't have the faintest clue what signs to look out for, she simply rests her hand against the Sheriff's brow momentarily and deduces the skin there to be adequately cool.

_Well it's not like what she's suffering from is a damned fever!_

True, but this is at least something she knows how to deal with. Shrugging her shoulders, she moves back to the room's threshold, her gait slightly awkward in her borrowed clothes; the drab, servant's material irritating against her skin and hanging oddly on her svelte frame.

She begrudges thoughts of Snow having access to her much grander Royal wardrobe.

* * *

Regina rounds yet another corner in her search for the Palace kitchens and begins making her way down the large, statue-studded hallway when she is thrown painfully against the cool marble stonework that lines the walls.

"_Ah_!"

"What the hell have you done with her, you bitch?!"

The brunette blinks in confusion as her back grumbles against its collision with the cruelly hard surface to which it is pressed, before shoving the younger woman bearing down on her angrily aside. Hands finding her hips as a snarl crawls languidly over her lips she hisses at the raven-headed pain in the behind irritably.

"What on earth are you talking about?"

Snow glares at her, and the Queen is amused to find that the school-teacher's pale hand is curled tightly around the hilt of a sword strung about her waist in an emerald scabbard. Holding up her hands and adopting an air of disdain, Regina sneers as comprehension dawns on her. Snow growls animalistically as she takes in the defiant curve to the brunette's lips.

"_Emma_! Where is she? Why did I even _think_ I could trust you?! I've been looking for you all damn _nigh_t, Regina, so you tell me what you've done with her right now, or I swear, I will have your head hitting the floor quicker than you can take another breath."

"Well, it appears you have been relieved of your restraints somewhere along the way, Snow,_ that's_ a relief. As for Emma, I imagine she's right where I left her; in bed. Asleep."

"How could you- wait... what?"

"Asleep, dear, as she very well should be given the circumstances. Her bones are healed and her condition is stable, but I should say she will find herself in a rather sorry way for the next couple of days... magic can do much, but it comes with a price. You know that."

Snow opens her mouth to argue, but no words come forth from rosy lips. A small indent of confusion alights her brow as her green eyes search the older woman's face warily.

"You healed her?"

"I said I would, didn't I?"

"You did but..."

"But, with Miss Swan in her current state it would have been all too _easy_ to finish off what my mother started and blame such a 'tragedy' on her ill health...?"

"... Something like that."

The school teacher's cheeks pinken, and she casts her eyes awkwardly away from Regina's steady gaze; hating the cool knowledge in those dark eyes.

"Well, rest assured, one death seemed like quite enough for the time being. You'll find her in one of the bedrooms within the servant's quarters, four doors down from the _despicably_ dingy bathroom. Now if you'll excuse me, I am on a search for something to eat."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **_Sorry it's a little short, I will probably get the next part to this up tomorrow though. Thanks for the comments on the previous chapter, I really appreciate it, and feel free to keep them coming!_

* * *

The warm, dull glow bleeding through the delicate skin of the blonde's eyelids brightens suddenly, causing the Sheriff to frown as she is pulled rudely from her slumber. She lets out a sharp hiss as, with this hateful light, comes a brutal agony, seemingly attacking every possible bone within her body. She cracks an eye open blearily and struggles to focus on the hazy figure silhouetted in the sun filled window.

"Emma?"

The curiously fuzzy shape creeps closer and she recognizes her intruder to be Mary Margaret. The school teacher bends over her with wide eyes, nibbling at the pleasantly pink flesh of her bottom lip anxiously. Emma stares up at her, disorientated, before squeezing her eyes shut once more and letting out a low groan.

"You have got to be shitting me."

"What, what's wrong? Emma?!"

The blonde forces her eyes to open fully, completely awake now and glances up at her housemate warily.

"It's cool, it's just... you look like Walt Disney threw up on you."

Snow glances down at the supple cream leather and soft skirts of her attire and offers the Sheriff a knowing smile. She wears soft, pig-skin chaps, covered by a rich, silken dress that is cut short in the front to allow for practicalities when in combat or riding, and around her waist hangs an emerald scabbard in which she has sheathed a sword procured from one of the land's patrons with whom she had spoken the previous night. She fingers at the coarse fur that adorns her neckline as Emma regards her with visible dubiety.

"This is how I dressed when I was growing up... how you would have been dressed. Whilst here it seems fitting to adopt our land's styles and ways... I realize it's probably a lot to take in-"

"-You think!?"

"- But while we're here, we need help... dressing in a way that is considered customary and familiar seems wise, not to mention how great it feels to be rid of that awful cardigan!... Anyway, how are you feeling?"

The dark haired woman perches companionably on the bed, running her hand affectionately along the side of the Sheriff's face. She reaches for the glass of water, still standing where Regina had set it the night before, and offers it to the blonde who struggles to push herself up so that she rests with her back to the headboard. The action is accompanied by a series of hissed expletives and she begins to believe she may well pass out before her mission is accomplished. Closing her eyes and waiting for the room to come back into single focus, she finally looks back up into the face of her, understandably concerned, housemate and reaches for the proffered glass; attempting this first with her left hand, but, after a hideous bolt of pain shooting up her side, opting to work with the right instead.

"I'm ok."

"Yes, you_ really_ look it..."

Snow takes the glass quickly away when Emma shows signs of attempting to lean over to do it herself and sighs thoughtfully; taking the blonde's hand in her own and rubbing at the flesh between thumb and forefinger kindly.

"I was really worried about you, you know?"

"Yeah... same, I wasn't sure where you were; if you were ok... what did they do to your eye?"

The raven-haired woman rubs at the scraped flesh below her eye distractedly, letting out an exasperated bark of laughter.

"You're worrying about what she did to _me_?! Have you_ seen_ the state you're in?"

As she says these words, the schoolteacher notes Emma's semi-nakedness curiously; the coarse blanket still wrapped around her revealing dirt streaked shoulders bare but for thin, black bra straps. She notes the neat white bandaging to the blonde's elbow and several small plasters littering her exposed arm.

"You must have had the shock of your life having Regina heal you with magic... did it hurt badly?"

"Oh, I think I _may_ have had greater shocks than that... it hurt like a bitch, but, my eyes aren't swimming with that weird redness anymore, and I think I can move everything ok... she did a good job."

Snow cringes as she recalls her earlier assault on the older woman before inwardly telling herself that her reaction was perfectly justified given their history. She smiles kindly at the blonde, gently picking a small strand of lint, left by the blanket, from the taped corner of the dressing at her elbow.

"How's the bruising?"

She pulls the blanket down gently, oblivious to Emma's small noise of annoyance, knowing the pale skin at her housemate's ribs will still appear painful, but still not quite ready for the dark thunder that crosses her abdomen.

"Jesus..."

Emma peers down at the damage curiously, inwardly admitting she can see the reasoning behind Mary Margaret's reaction. The bruising is a livid purple, tinged yellow and green here and there. She imagines it looks worse than it is, now that the bones are no longer fractured beneath, and tells her companion so.

"Well... let's hope so... we need to get you some food, Emma, you're getting skinny!"

The blonde rolls her eyes irritably. The action sends a sharp pain to the back of her skull and she ceases her air of disdain immediately, opting to merely sigh as she regards the schoolteacher in bemusement.

"Am not, and, seriously? _That's _what you're worried about?"

She changes the subject swiftly; she won't deny that she has grown exceptionally fond of the raven-haired woman, but she is about as enthusiastic about engaging in such mother-daughter bickering as she is about visiting the dentist.

"So, what's the plan... now that the wardrobe's gone?"

"I don't know yet"

"Did you ask Regina how she got here?"

"No, not yet, but hopefully however she did works both ways"

"Either way, she might have ideas, we should talk to her"

"...Maybe."

Snow frowns, wondering if she will be rewarded with another moody glare if she opts to point out to the Sheriff that the woman in question has hardly proven herself to be trustworthy.

_Yes, ideas like the one she had when she attempted to feed you a poisoned apple turnover, you mean? Or that time she framed your dad and I for murder? Or the time her pathetic need for revenge almost cost your son his life? _

She is curious at Emma's attitude towards the brunette, understanding the older woman is to thank for the blonde being sat here, alive, today, but unable to match her housemate's seemingly casual acceptance of the disgraced Mayor.

"Things should go more smoothly now, anyway..."

"Pity, I was getting so good at campfires"

Snow grins and suddenly leans forward to press her lips to the Sheriff's forehead. Emma let's out an awkward noise of disquiet, but embraces the schoolteacher gingerly with her good arm. The paler woman draws back sheepishly, but offers the blonde a small shrug of her shoulders.

"I'm glad you're okay, Emma"

"Same here."

Smiling, Snow points to the items previously overlooked by the younger woman which she has lain out neatly on a small stool which stands in the corner.

"Those should fit you, just don't pull the corseting too tight because of your ribs... I'm guessing you should probably be resting, so I'll bring you something to eat in a short while, but if you feel like getting up or getting changed, everything you need is there..."

Emma eyes the expensive looking fabric warily, her distaste having been ignited at the mention of corseting. Regarding her housemate soberly, she takes in the anxious hesitance in Mary Margaret's green eyes and the doting beam of her lips and decides to refrain from voicing her disinclination to dress up like fucking Rapunzel.

"Thanks, I think I might try to sleep some more; my head's killing me"

"Okay, I'll come check on you in a while?"

"Sure... thanks."

* * *

Regina pokes her head around the door to the blonde's room hesitantly, surprised to see the younger woman sitting up in bed and awake. Sauntering into the room with the sharp click of her thankfully located heels, she peers down at the Sheriff with her hands placed authoritatively on her hips.

"You're up."

"Oh god, you're dressed that way too."

The Queen hides her amusement behind a sniff of disdain as she glances down at her less than desirable outfit.

"Yes, well, I have no clothes of my own here, so I merely made do with what I found in the closet."

She nods her head towards the modest oak wardrobe by the window as Emma raises an eyebrow, regarding the brunette with open curiosity.

"Something tells me it's still a damn sight better than what I'm expected to wear..."

Regina glances in the direction of Snow's proffered clothes and smirks. She stalks quickly over and holds up the deep navy dress; its cut similar to the one worn by Snow White earlier, but with fuller sleeves and a rich plumage of feathers trailing the spine. The brunette begrudgingly muses she actually finds the silken fabric to be to her taste, but imagines the blonde thinks otherwise.

"Seriously? It looks like a fucking prom-night-stegosaurus!"

The Queen lets out a short bark of laughter before glaring at the Sheriff accusingly.

"Well, it's good to see your injuries haven't impacted your way with words, Miss Swan."

"You can't honestly tell me that people would actually wear something like that?!"

"Oh, they do, dear, and I imagine this _particular_ garment belongs to your mother."

Regina smirks as the younger woman cringes at the term, folding the dress neatly and placing it back on the stool. With a pang of envy she notes the raven-haired woman has also left the blonde a demure set of undergarments.

"Well, I can tell you now I'm _not_ going to wear something like that!"

"Yes, I imagined as much, Miss Swan."


	6. Chapter 6

__**A/N: **_Sorry the cuts to the chapters are a bit weird, I tend to just write a section and then post it, so this should have probably gone with the last part of yesterday's. Anyway, hope you enjoy! Let me know if you do, and/or have any ideas :)_

* * *

_"Well, I can tell you now, I'm not going to wear something like that!"_

_"I imagined as much, Miss Swan." _

Regina smirks as she moves over to the bed, looming in close to the blonde as she cups her chin and studies her intently.

"Uh, Regina? What are you doing?"

"Close your eyes, dear."

"I'm... I'm not sure I want to..."

The brunette frowns before rolling her eyes when comprehension dawns on her as to the Sheriff's sudden anxiety.

"Miss Swan, close your eyes; I want to see how your pupils react when you open them; last night the left one was far too blown."

"Oh..."

Emma does as she's told; holding her eyes closed for a short period before blinking against the light, keeping them comically wide in an attempt to aid the older woman.

"Much better, how's the pain?"

"Better."

"Good, I have sent one of the Royal Guard out into the forest to search for grass nettles; they release a pain killing substance when wilted."

"Really?"

The blonde's question seems more to be directed at the fact the Queen should do such a thing than at the healing qualities of the local vegetation and Regina shrugs awkwardly before perching on the edge of the bed with a sigh.

"Yes, really. Look, as long as we're here and Henry remains back in Storybrooke, it is in my best interests to keep you in good health. Now, I did my part last night and we could leave it at that, but the simple fact of the matter, Miss Swan, is that you being in pain- tempting as the idea may be- serves me no purpose."

"I'm touched... You know if we're going to be all _friendly_ now, you may as well drop that whole 'Miss Swan' thing and just call me Emma, like a normal person."

"Sheriff, I have about as much inclination to form a friendship with yourself as I do to stick my head in an oven, I just don't need you moping about up here when you could be making yourself useful. And I will call you Miss Swan, as it is the courteous way in which to address you."

"But I call you Regina all the time."

"I am aware of this, dear, it is just one of the many _many_ things about you which irks me."

Emma regards the brunette levelly for a moment before adopting a small grin. She moves to reach out for the water standing close to her side before thinking better of it. The Queen watches this with a flicker of curious concern, but notes that the level within the glass has diminished since the previous night, indicating the younger woman has at least drunken something.

"Does it hurt to drink?"

"No, it's just..."

"It's just what?"

"...Well... I don't want to have to go to the bathroom... I'm practically naked and I don't know if I can even fucking stand up!"

The blonde blushes before glaring at the older woman challengingly, waiting for whatever witticism she suspects Regina has rolled up her sleeve.

"You should be able to stand and walk, your bones are healed which is what would have stopped you from doing so, but I imagine it will hurt _quite _exquisitely."

"Oh good, I feel so much better now."

The Mayor laughs, pulling at the blonde's arm and checking the bandage at her elbow.

"Can I wash with these things on?"

"No, you'll need to take them off and redress them, which_ tends_ to be a good idea anyway when one has an injury. As for your plans of bathing, this is something I am entirely in favor of, Miss Swan; I'm pretty sure you'll turn the water black with the layer of grime in which you currently fester. It would be a treat to the olfactory senses also."

"Uhuh, well I'm _sorry_ I didn't find the time to have a bubble bath while trekking through the unfriendly realms of this shit hole... Do you know what happened to my clothes? I'll just wash them too."

"I don't think you'll be wearing that cheap little vest and jeans set again, dear."

"Yeah, yeah, we have to blend in or whatever. Well that's about as likely to happen as me growing a set of wings, so I may as well feel comfortable trying."

"The only way you would sprout wings, Miss Swan, is if you were to become either a fairy, or a dragon. You lack the moral innocence to be the first and the skilled prowess to become the second. No, you won't be wearing those skimpy little jeans again because there's very little left of them."

She leans to the floor and pinches up the tattered fabric between thumb and forefinger, her expression a picture of distaste. Holding it out to the blonde pointedly, she pulls at several stray scraps of material here and there before letting the ruined denim fall back to the floor.

"What did you do that for?!"

"Well, do you recall that time when your ribs and pelvis were in much the same shape as those ridiculous jeans, dear? Think hard now. I had to remove them in order to put Humpty Dumpty back together again, and, given that she _insists_ on wearing clothes that fit her like a second skin, the chances were I would only inflict more damage by trying to wrestle them off."

"Crap."

"Your gratitude is truly touching, dear."

Emma sighs, regarding the brunette in bemusement.

"Look, I'm thankful for what you did for me last night, truly I am, but I would honestly rather walk around the castle naked than wear that fucking dress."

"Well, the Royal Guard and servantry are almost solely male, you should at least get some splendidly cooked breakfasts by doing so. However, as much as I'm sure your mother would be thrilled to have the land's fair Lost Princess staggering around the castle with her goods on display, I would suggest you rethink such notions."

"You know what I mean! Come on, there has to be something else in that closet?"

Raising an eyebrow, the brunette pushes herself gracefully from the bed and makes her way over to the wardrobe, pulling open the doors to allow the Sheriff to assess the contents from her position on the bed. She pulls out the dowdiest of the offered skirts- the act partially spiteful, but in a way also kind, as the item she selects is of a lighter material, less likely to put strain on the blonde's hips- and holds it out for closer scrutiny.

"God, no."

"Too long?"

"Too.. skirt like..."

"...Sheriff, as much as I'm _sure _you don't need to be reminded, we are currently within different company to which you usually find yourself; you must wear a skirt or a dress or you will find it hard blending in with this society."

"Well then society can bite me!"

"My dear, I imagine a few, brief moments of enduring your sweet, docile attitude will have them wishing to do just _that_, so why not skip irking them visually as well as with your ill-mannered tongue?"

"It's sexist."

"It is."

Regina shrugs, offering the blonde a gesture with her hand to suggest she should simply deal with it and get over it. Rolling her eyes at the younger woman's petulant scowl, she returns to the closet and pulls open the large drawer which lines its base. She finds a pair of charcoal gray riding chaps- designed to be worn beneath a dress cut much like Snow's- supposing if she can find a shirt long enough, she can appease the irritable woman for the time being. She manages to find a large, white shirt adorned with an exaggerated collar within the same drawer in which she had found the tights she currently wears. She imagines it is meant as an item of sleepwear, but negates to share this with Emma, simply laying the items out on the bed before standing back with her hands on her hips.

"You're going to get some funny looks, Miss Swan."

"I've just spent the past week trekking around in a red leather jacket and denim pants, I can handle it."

The Queen splays the palms of her hands in a gesture that goads 'suit yourself' before running her fingers through her once again shiny hair and giving the blonde a curt nod.

"Right, well I'll send someone up with the grass nettle when it's been properly prepared. In the meantime, I highly suggest a shower; the bathroom is four doors down the hall... I suppose I'll have to come back later to redress your injuries. I will come by in a while."

"Uh, yeah, ok... and, thanks... Mayor Mills."

The brunette raises an eyebrow, plump lips spreading into an expression somewhere between a smirk and a smile.

"Actually, _here_, dear, I go by 'Your Majesty'... Good day, Miss Swan."

The brunette is halfway out of the doorway when the younger woman calls her back. Turning swiftly on a sharp heel, she regards the blonde quizzically, taking in the deep blush to her cheeks and the fact that the blanket now pools about her legs, revealing the bruised flesh at her ribs.

"Sheriff?"

"Umm..."

Emma casts her eyes down at her hands awkwardly, seemingly at a loss of what to say. Or how to say it.

"Well?"

Regina huffs impatiently; not used to dealing with the younger woman when she adopts this meek, demure persona, and disinterested in learning how to do so.

"...My ribs hurt when I move my arm..."

"Well... there's probably some torn tissue there, and the flesh that lies over them will be tender for a while... when the grass nettle is ready it should-"

"It's not that, it's just, uh, I want to wash my hair... and I don't think I can..."

"I see... well, I suppose I could find Snow... Mary Margaret."

"No!"... sorry, no, don't, it's just... I don't want her to know that it hurts... bad... I'm not so keen on having a bedside vigil, and there's a lot of worms just _dying_ to get out of the can we have held between us..."

"So then what do you suggest, dear?"

"If _you_ could-"

"-Out of the question-"

"-Regina, please! Look, I'll wear my goddamn underwear, and you don't even have to look! I just need you to put the shampoo in my hair..."

"Miss Swan, I am not _washing_ _your hair_!"

"Fine! Forget I asked!"

The blonde snarls angrily, and Regina suspects a large portion of her rage is due to embarrassment. The scarlet flare to her cheeks being a dead giveaway as she moves to get up, presumably to sort herself out. The Queen regards the younger woman with a deadpan glare, before making her way smartly to the door.

"_Ah_! _Shi-it_!"

The brunette glances over her shoulder before turning around fully to study the Sheriff. Emma sits with her eyes clamped firmly shut and her legs draped off the bed, clutching her side with a shaking hand as she holds her left arm at an awkward angle. Rolling her eyes and thinning her lips, Regina stalks over to the bed and speaks sternly.

"Ok, come on then, get up."

"_Hha_- leave me alone."

"Oh, stop it, here, hold onto my arm and get up. S_lowly!_"

"Wh-at... why?"

"Because if the coloring to your complexion, or rather, the _lack_ of it, is anything to go by, there's a good chance the next time you move like that to toss your toys out the pram, you'll throw up or pass out, and then I really _will_ leave Snow to deal with you."

"You're... you'll help me?"

"Just take my arm and shut up."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **_Fan fiction will be the reason I fail university. Well, one of the reasons. Ah well, please enjoy! And let me know what you think :)_

* * *

By the time they reach the bathroom, the brunette is all but dragging the Sheriff along; hands fluttering awkwardly over clammy limbs as she struggles to find a way to hold her that doesn't garner a sharp yelp from the younger woman.

"Well this is going well."

Emma glares at her, eyes narrowed amidst her chalky features. Regina pulls down the toilet seat cover with a flailing hand before offloading the blonde onto it awkwardly. She takes a moment to regain her breath and runs her fingers distractedly through her hair.

"So, I'm going to go ahead and insist you have a bath rather than a shower."

"Seconded."

The Queen gives the younger woman one more glance of incredulous disbelief before turning to the relatively dingy deep-set bath and turning the taps to induce a shuddering stream of copper-tinged water. Speaking over her shoulder, she crouches down and simply lets the warming water flow over her extended fingers.

"Next time, dear, when someone asks you how the pain is, try being honest? I would argue this all now seems a _bad_ idea, but I'm not sure I'm quite ready to go through our little hallway experience again."

"It's not so bad if I sit still..."

The blonde speaks through clenched teeth and Regina turns to study her as she waits for the tub to fill.

"In that case, I regret to inform you that there's no bubble bath, just a bar of soap, and if you think for a second that I'm going to-"

"-I don't. It's fine, I'll be able to do most of it so long as I go slowly, it's just lifting my arm that's the problem..."

Regina sighs as she imagines things are anything but 'fine' but cocks her head as she continues to regard the blonde with a small smirk.

"It really is a shame that stubbornness tends not to be a commendable trait, dear, you are truly an expert."

"What can I say, I'm a hard-ass."

Emma offers a strained grin from which the Queen looks swiftly away. Over the past twenty-four hours, the endearingly _-really? Endearing? Emma?_- lopsided pull to the blonde's lips as she smiles in that ever sarcastic-tinged way has threatened to induce an expression much the same from the brunette, and Regina refuses to allow such pleasantries to continue.

Sniffing as she shuts off the water, she turns to the woman in question and holds out her hands in a business-like manner. She is well aware- and imagines Emma is too- that the least painful way for them to do this is for her to try and lift the blonde into the bathtub, but she refuses to give this method of choice even a try. Instead she grips the Sheriff's right hand tightly, while keeping a gentle hand hovering to the blonde's left to steady her if needed. Walking her slowly over to the bath she watches as Emma closes her eyes and takes in an audible breath before clambering into the warm water with a small noise of discomfort. Regina does her best to lower the younger woman down gently to sit with her back against the cold porcelain side, but the movement lacks any grace and the Sheriff overbalances into the last few inches. Thankfully the water softens the impact, but the brunette still hides a wince as Emma swears throatily under her breath.

"Okay?"

"Never better."

The Queen hands the blonde the bar of soap before making her way to perch awkwardly on the covered toilet seat. She makes a point of looking away as the Sheriff struggles to clean herself, not overly enthusiastic about sitting alone in a bathroom with a young woman in her underwear- particularly one with whom she bares such grievances- or about watching Emma try to keep her face neutral as she makes slow, pained movements.

"Should I take the dressings off now?"

The blonde fingers the sodden cotton curiously and Regina shakes her head, finally looking back at the younger woman to find her a much more human shade of pink without the additional layer of forest grime.

"No, leave them on, that water's filthy. We'll just redo them when we get back to the room, but for now, let's try and keep them at least vaguely clean. Grass nettles I am familiar with, but a tetanus shot is not something I know how to replicate with leaves and herbs."

Emma nods and lowers her hand obediently while the brunette muses that this is perhaps the most compliant she has ever seen the younger woman. In fact, she isn't sure she can recall the last time she told the Sheriff to do something without receiving equal shares of obstinacy and argument.

Making her way over to the tub, Regina kneels down on the worn, crocheted mat that lies before the bath and takes the soap from Emma. Realizing the shower head is permanently fixed to the wall, she debates for a moment simply turning it on and telling the blonde to close her eyes as it douses her with a messy jet of water, but opts instead to use one of the candle holders as a cup.

Clearing her throat against the awkwardness between them, she fills the cup from the graying bathwater and pours it over the Sheriff's tangled curls; turning bottled blonde to gold. She repeats the action in silence until the entirity of Emma's hair glistens wetly, inwardly berating the younger woman for having so damn much of it. Rubbing the soap between her hands up into a lather, the brunette banishes all thought from her mind and works it gently into cornsilk tangles, careful not to rub too hard at the Sheriff's scalp, despite her filthy state, due to the recently healed fracture to the bone beneath.

Emma stares pointedly ahead as the brunette works and the latter is silently grateful that the blonde has enough sense to forgo her usual sarcastic commentary on events. Just as well, she supposes, as she imagines that, had Emma decided now was the time for one of her irksome little quips, she would be hard put not to yank viciously on the wet tangles she runs gently through her fingers.

_Hair like this, it's a crime she just lets it tangle and fall. If I had such hair I would plait it, style it, brush-_

The Queen shakes her head and reprimands her musings angrily, washing the flowery scented soap from the Sheriff's hair with repetitive dips of the small cup. Once finished she washes her hands primly in the sink and locates a towel from the airing cupboard, holding it out to Emma, who mutters her quiet gratitude and proceeds to struggle from the bath with a little help from the brunette.

Regina wraps the towel easily around the shivering blonde, fixing it in place at the front in a manner so business-like she avoids the situation becoming once more uncomfortable as she wedges the loose end between a fluffy fold and the Sheriff's damp bra. She moves quickly behind the younger woman and rings out her long hair so that droplets patter torrentially onto the dingy mat, before taking her once more by the arm and starting the slow, painful trek back to the room.

* * *

"Sno- Mary Margaret left you these."

Regina points to the dark blue undergarments lying on the chair and smirks as she watches the blonde try to discern the use of the peculiar items. She imagines it is a lot more material than the younger woman is used to wearing. Picking up the high-waisted knickers and long-line brassier, she places them on the bed before turning pointedly away.

"Regina... little help, please?"

"Miss Swan, I am not-"

"Oh, come on!"

The Queen turns back irritably to the younger woman who stands with her back towards her; the towel loosened and dropped so it hangs just clear of her bra. Realizing the issue, the brunette unclasps the item's tricky little teeth with a deft movement of her wrist before turning round once more.

She tries to block out the little hisses and moans coming from behind her.

"Oh-okay, can you help again?"

She turns to find the blonde, sans towel, but in much the same position- although trembling a little and audibly gritting her teeth- and moves aside her sodden hair so she can work together the intricate pearl clasps of the midnight blue brassier she now wears.

Turning to the small bundle of medical supplies left over from the previous night, she goes quickly about removing the sodden dressings from the Sheriff's chilled limbs, swiping the raw, bloodless lacerations with antiseptic doused cotton swabs, before patching her up with new, pristinely white dressings.

Deciding she doesn't really want to keep having to hear Emma all but beg, she takes the gray chaps from the bed without a word and bends over with them held out low to help the blonde step into them. The Sheriff gives her a peculiar look, her eyes searching pretty, defined features for any signs of foul play, before she rests her right hand gingerly on the brunette's shoulder and works her legs into the somewhat itchy material.

"Dashing."

Regina smirks as she watches the blonde struggle with the clasp one-handed; the chaps are slightly too wide at the waist whilst slightly too short. She imagines they'll be able to procure a belt from somewhere but doesn't bother searching the wardrobe as she knows that, despite the Sheriff's lack of femininity, a woman of this land and of the chaste the other clothes inside suggest wouldn't own such a thing.

_Well then, let that be the item that Snow can bestow on her sullen little piece of sugar and spice._

"I'm glad you think so."

Emma pouts her lips in a burlesque show of mock seduction when she realizes that cocking her hip is out, making the Queen roll her eyes with a curious amount of good-naturedness. The brunette quickly helps the blonde into the billowy shirt and does up the small buttons which run its' front without request. Personally, she thinks Emma looks rather dowdy, with the oversized fabric drowning her and the dark woolen chaps- a far cry from the synthetic variety she is sure to be familiar with, even if just from a voyeuristic position- hugging her skinny legs disproportionately, but the Sheriff is yet to start with her insufferable negative drawling so she keeps such thoughts firmly to herself.

"Sit on the bed."

Emma throws her a curious glance but does as she's told- _again? There really must be something amiss_- as Regina follows to perch behind her.

Lacking a comb, the brunette begins running her fingers through tangles just as stubborn as their owner, working Emma's long hair into a better behaved mass of damp tresses. Reaching around and pulling an elastic from the blonde's wrist as Emma opens her mouth in confusion, the Queen resumes battling cornsilk hair into submission. She moves up to sit on her knees atop the lumpy mattress, giving her a pronounced height advantage, and separates the younger woman's hair into three small sections from her crown. Plaiting and adding continuously, she french braids the long, wet curls without a word, enjoying having such long hair to work with and cordially ignoring whom it belongs to.

A quiet tap of the door has both women jumping visibly, and the brunette almost leaps from the bed before growling to herself and remaining in her place, primly tying the elastic at the base of the blonde's plait as she calls for their visitor to enter.

_Who would dare pass judgement on me... A fool. Only a fool. _

A helmet-less guard enters the room warily; a small ceramic jug which emits a nauseating smell held in his hand. If he has an opinion on the fact that his Queen is currently dressed in a way similar to a servant girl, toying with the hair of a women dressed all the more strangely, he wisely doesn't let it show, but merely bows down low.

"Your Majesty, the grass nettle tonic."

"Put it on the stool."

Emma takes in the situation curiously. Regina's tone is harsh and disinterested, and she neither thanks nor properly acknowledges the guard.

"Thank you."

The brunette resists the urge to tug at the hair she still holds in irritation and simply makes a dismissing gesture with her hand. When the guard doesn't leave immediately she frowns and repeats the gesture, her tone when she speaks cruelly condescending.

"That will be all."

"My Queen, you are needed down in the Great Hall."

"Why should I be needed? I was under the impression current liaisons were being dealt with by Snow White."

"Your Majesty, it is about your mother; the kingdom will be expecting a public burial, and-"

"-fine. Go. I will be down shortly."

The anger in the Queens voice is dangerously audible and the guard takes his leave swiftly, bowing low once more before retreating into the safety of the hallway. Regina climbs silently down from the blonde's bed, smoothing out her skirt before fluffing at her hair. She stalks stiffly over to the jug left on the stool and brings it to the bed, never sparing the blonde a second glance.

"You drink this as you would water. Its' taste is foul, but you will feel better for it-"

"-Your mother?"

"- Drink half of this now, and half later. I imagine Snow will be by shortly with something edible."

"...Regina, what-"

"-Get some rest, Miss Swan."

The brunette nods curtly before taking her leave, aware that green eyes bore into her as she goes but paying the younger woman no mind. She shuts the door with a little extra force than possibly needed; slamming the blonde away to her thoughts.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **_Well, not a snowy one-shot, but snow incorporated anyway! I felt bad leaving this fic unattended so long, so decided to add a little slice here rather than bake a whole new cake :) Hope you enjoy!_

* * *

"Emma..."

"What?!"

The blonde huffs as she trails after Snow; shooting a poisonous glance at the tittering maids that hurry past with pointed looks of pure disdain._ Silent_ disdain however. They are in the presence of Royalty.

"You couldn't have just worn the clothes I put out for you?"

"I don't wear dresses..."

"And no one back home would have needed to know about it!"

The schoolteacher rolls her eyes amiably, slowing down her pace as the blonde winces slightly.

"You ok?"

"Yeah, just a little stiff more than anything."

"Well, I could have always brought you some food to your room..."

"I think if I'd stayed in that room any longer I'd have gone crazy! And I'm interested to take a look around... you know... without the adrenalin rush of oncoming death."

Snow chuckles as she leads them into a large dining hall, pointing to a pair of seats at the end of a long, mahogany table at which plates and cutlery have been neatly laid out. Emma raises an eyebrow curiously as a drably clothed maid scurries out, seemingly from nowhere, and lays down twin bowls of fresh fruit and a peculiar looking broth. Deciding it can't be any worse than the Grass Nettle tonic, the blonde takes a sip eagerly, eyes widening as she realizes it's actually pretty good.

"So... how... how does this all work?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, like, who's in charge at the moment? People seem to be doing what you want and acting all... well.. _servanty_... but then this guy upstairs referred to Regina as a queen and... I don't..."

"It _is_ a rather peculiar situation, yes. I'm not actually all too sure myself; your father and I ruled this land back when things were good, but as it has since been overtaken by Cora, I suppose it puts Regina in the rather unique position that she is also considered this land's royalty..."

"About Cora... what happened to her? I don't remember anything much after she made me... fly?"

The blonde frowns as she searches for the right word to describe the terrifying floating sensation bestowed upon her by the old Queen, spearing a strawberry violently onto her fork and nibbling at it as she studies her housemate inquisitively.

"She knocked you out... and then... Regina stopped her from hurting you any more than she already had."

"Regina was there?"

"She went up to find you after she appeared in the dungeon... as for what happened, I'm not entirely sure, I only know what little Regina told me, but... Cora..."

"She's dead. That's what the guard said."

"Yes."

"Regina...?"

"Yes."

"Shit..."

Emma sighs, brow furrowing as she glares moodily down at her half-eaten breakfast. She isn't entirely sure what to do with this new information, her mind already saturated with the chaotic mess of emotion the past week has thrown at her.

"She didn't tell me..."

Snow frowns in confusion as she watches the blonde sigh melancholily. She is unsure why her housemate should be so distraught over the fact the older woman has negated to share her black news, but supposes Emma may be feeling victim to a small sense of guilt; presumably assuming- correctly- that Regina had acted on her behalf.

"Regina's not one to speak candidly about her feelings..."

"No... I know..."

They sit in uncomfortable silence as the maid hurries back over and begins clearing away their plates.

"I can do it-"

Emma trails off as the woman throws her an ill-disguised glance of curiosity before looking to Snow as if in request for an explanation as to the peculiar blonde.

"...I think I'd like to go get some fresh air."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? It's just started to snow and you're-"

"-fine... I'm fine. That nettle crap works way better than any pain killers back home. I just... I want to try and sort my head out... alone."

She smiles apologetically as Snow hovers in her seat, ready to follow her. The schoolteacher sighs, but sits back down, trying her best to hide her hurt at Emma's kind rejection.

"Well... ok... but don't go too far-"

She shrugs as green eyes glint dangerously, more than aware the blonde isn't a fan of advice- however well meaning- and holds her gaze carefully.

"The grounds are vast, and you have no idea where you're going. So far as I know, no one here offers us any threat, but it would be foolish to harbor no caution at all... just... don't wander off and get into trouble, ok?"

Emma's scowl softens and she offers Mary Margaret a much more genuine smile, nodding her head in acceptance of her housemate's request.

"You'll need a cloak."

The words have only left perfectly red lips for a moment before a second maid steps from the shadows, holding out a heavy winter cloak with her head graciously bowed.

"Uh, thanks."

Shaking out the soft material curiously, Emma slowly dons the heavy fabric; cautious of the pain in her side. She smooths out the soft leather which covers a lining of thick fur and raises an eyebrow at the schoolteacher who seems torn between appreciation and amusement.

"Where do I put my arms?"

"Wherever you like, it's a cloak, it's meant to _cover _you, not fit you."

The blonde fusses at the long fur that lines her neck distractedly, feeling swamped by the heavy layer and supposing she looks very odd indeed. As for wearing a cloak, this is a first, but back in the normal world- the _sane_ world- she had tried to steer clear of whites and creams, fearing their soft, angelic hue may not just be misleading, but also cause her complexion to seem deathly pale.

"You look..."

Snow shrugs, stopping herself before she can say anything that will garner her a rolling of eyes or irritable huff. Instead she merely rises from her seat and walks over, straightening the high collar at the blonde's neck before offering her a warm smile.

"Just you wait, I'll bet once we get home you'll be scouring the stores for something similar!"

Emma laughs, glancing down at herself in amusement before tossing her long curls amiably.

"I somehow doubt that..."

* * *

"It will be a closed casket; there are none in this land that my mother would consider a true companion, save for myself, and I have already seen the body. You are to dress her in the same gown she wore when she married my father..."

"Your Majesty... that gown is white, and I am unsure if-"

"-Silence. You will dress her in that gown and no other. She shall be laid to rest as she was at her best, not at her worst. Let there be a ceremony in two days time, here, at the palace-"

"- But, My Queen, what if Snow White-"

"-She will allow it. It is how this must be done."

"Are you sure, Your Highness?"

"You dare question me?!... Yes. I am sure. Snow will allow it... her daughter will make it so if she should resist."

"The blonde? She hardly seems like-"

"-Like what?"

"... She is not familiar with our ways... that much has been obvious."

"No. And _you_ are not familiar with hers. Snow will do as Emma wills of her if it has to come to that... It shall be held here in the grounds and be a formal affair. We are honoring the passing of royalty... any goodness my mother once possessed should have been mourned years ago."

"...And should the people ask for a cause of death, Your Majesty?"

"Then they shall be told the truth. She died of a broken heart."

"What about the flowers-"

"Whatever the Royal Guard deems fit... now go... I grow tired of these questions."

Regina waves her hand in a distracted fashion, watching the young man hurry back into the safety of the small look-out building beside which they had been standing.

_Those helmets really are ridiculous now I come to think of it..._

She muses briefly what the young blonde will have made of them when first approached by any of her men, before pushing away the thought irritably. She wonders distastefully why her mind should suddenly be plagued so by the irksome Sheriff.

_Rather thoughts of that idiotic little nuisance than of the woman destroyed to save her..._

"It was a case of what was right... Emma had nothing to do with it."

She mutters irritably as she makes her way slowly over to one of the stone benches that surround the topiary garden before her. She takes a a seat, paying the fat, white flakes of softly falling snow little mind. Her expression is hard, thoughtful, and her lips form a thin line of discontent.

She is unsure what it is that she is supposed to be feeling; despite the cause of death mirroring her father's passing, the emotions are entirely different. She supposes she feels an odd sense of remorse, but not as much as she had perhaps anticipated. What she feels, if it can be _called_ feeling, is something much closer to relief. Love. But relief.

_"Love is weakness, Regina, you know that..."_

Oh, doesn't she just.

She thinks back to what both Snow and Emma had mentioned; about discussing her son with her mother. The thought fills her with a cold sense of dread that makes her bones ache.

"I couldn't let her live... not if I want Henry back..."

The notion of wanting Henry 'back' is a peculiar one. She can't quite remember the exact point in time at which he was taken from her. Not physically anyway. As for deducing at what point he had become Emma's and not solely her own... well, she doesn't know. She is wise enough to imagine such hateful facts occurred long before the blonde leaned in to kiss him.

Shaking such thoughts away, she simply sits, and watches the heavy dusting of snow settle slowly over the inane animals carved within the hedges like virginally pure frosting, moving every now and then only to shake the flakes from her dark hair.

* * *

Emma slows her already cautious pace nervously as she spots a figure up ahead. So far, her wandering around the impressive- disturbingly so- palace grounds has been completely uneventful. Closer to the main entrance she had encountered several men going about their chores, headed in the direction of what she assumes were stables judging by the gear they had carried. Since then, she has been left mercifully alone.

Frowning, and wishing not for the first time she had her glasses with her- her contacts having been discarded after the second day in the enchanted forest, no longer fit for use, and becoming painful- she takes a hesitant couple of steps closer. Noticing that whoever sits ahead appears to have their back to her, she becomes slightly more bold and stalks curiously onwards, until she recognizes the rich chocolate locks and graceful posture belonging to the woman sitting out alone in the snow.

Regina frowns, wandering who on earth would be brave enough- foolish enough- to dare take a seat beside her. Glaring over, she lets out a sigh and regards the blonde with a touch of amusement.

"Christ, what happened to _you_!?"

She eyes the pale cloak the younger woman wears pointedly, her mind instinctively dismissing the idea that the blonde looks rather lovely indeed; with her pale curls falling over the cream leather and fur; at some point removed from the intricate french plait she had worn earlier. Almost regal.

"Fetching, isn't it?"

Emma grins sarcastically before averting her attention to the painstakingly crafted vegetative art form before her.

"Fuck me, but that's impressive! God knows why you'd want something like that, but still!"

"You're feeling slightly better then, dear?"

The Queen muses cattily as she bites back a smirk at the Sheriff's mannerisms. She would be curious to know what the local color make of the young woman beside her.

"Yeah, a lot... thanks... that nettle stuff tasted like crap but it works."

"Good."

Regina joins the blonde in staring directly ahead, a little unnerved to have Emma quite so close and so casual now that the adrenalin fueled by her worry at the younger woman's health has dissipated.

"Uh... Mary Margaret told me about... what happened..."

"Did she?"

"Yeah... with Cora, I mean..."

"Yes, well... I imagine you're not too broken up about it, Miss Swan, in fact, I dare say you should feel a sense of relief..."

"Maybe... but it's not _me_ I'm concerned about..."

The brunette blinks, momentarily at a loss of what to think before her lips form a hard, unfriendly line and she turns to the blonde irritably.

"Then I suggest you save such wasted emotions, Miss Swan. I do not need, nor want, your concern."

Emma shies away visibly, but proceeds to simply shrug her shoulders beneath their heavy shroud and go back to studying the ever whitening scenery. After what seems like an age, the Queen glances at her slyly from the corner of her eye and sighs.

"You should get back inside; the grass nettle numbs your pain receptors, but you're still healing..."

"I do not need, nor want, your concern, Regina."

The brunette rolls her eyes, but finds the younger woman's tone to be more a dutiful tribute to their turbulent relationship than actual petulance.

"Be that as it may, I imagine you'll think otherwise when it wears off and you're sat here in the freezing cold."

She brushes some of the heavy flakes from the blonde's long hair, mouth twitching as Emma flinches ever so slightly as she raises her hand.

"The relationship between me and my mother was a complicated one, Miss Swan, as I am sure you can imagine. While I mourn her passing, I wish to do so in my own way, and without unwanted solace from yourself... As long as she had lived, I would now fear for Henry. It was not an easy choice, but it was a simple one."

"Okay."

Regina blinks, regarding the Sheriff curiously as the younger woman simply nods and carries on watching the snow settle. She is somewhat surprised at Emma's easy acceptance and respect for her request, and finds herself, not for the first time, warming slightly to the blonde.

Hastily battling such thoughts aside, the Queen rises and clears her throat, casting her eyes to the gray skies and watching the infinite flakes in their descent.

"I'm growing cold. I think I'll head back to the Castle to warm up..."

She says nothing more and doesn't have to. The Sheriff pushes herself up from the bench, staggering slightly, and simply waits expectantly to follow. Sighing, and looking down at her feet as she begins walking, the brunette remains silent as Emma falls easily in step next to her.

"Regina, can I ask you something?"

"Yes, I imagine you could manage if you put your mind to it..."

"How did you get here?"

"To this world?"

"...sure."

The Queen nods briskly, making it clear that this is the only branch of the blonde's ambiguous wording she plans to discuss.

"An old method; a combination of what I knew of magic."

"I thought you could no longer use magic?"

"I used it the night with the Wraith, didn't I?"

"Yes... but I thought...I-"

"You thought wrong, it merely took me a while to get the hat to work... Magic is still difficult to access and control in Storybrooke... it is different... but it exists in a certain form..."

"Like when I kissed Henry?"

"... Yes."

"So what form did you use then? Could it get us back?"

"... That is a good question, Miss Swan, but one which we shall discuss with your moth- Mary Margaret present as well. It is, after all, something she will need to be a part of."

"Sure... well, why not get her now?"

"I wish to change, now that I have found access to garments more in line with my stature, and you need to rest."

"I'm fine!"

"Ah, well then _I_ need a rest from _you_!"

Dark eyes glitter impishly, and the brunette suppresses a surprised gasp as the blonde kicks some of the freshly fallen snow at their feet at her. She can't recall anyone ever having done something quite so childish or quite so dangerous in her presence before. Her first instinct is to smite the Sheriff where she stands. Instead, she reaches up above them slyly and flicks an overhanging branch, sending a flurry of icy dust down onto the younger woman.

"Hey!"

"An eye for an eye, Miss Swan..."

"...Makes the whole world blind, Madame Mayor."

Regina raises an eyebrow as they close in on the impressive stone of the castle. Reaching the large guarded doors, she turns to the blonde and regards her levelly.

"As much as I detest the thought of a sit down dinner with either of you, it is perhaps the most appropriate setting in which to discuss the matters at hand. You can find me on the fourth floor, in the green doored suite. Take the main stairs, not the servant stairway, or you'll never find it. I'll leave it to you to organize things with Snow. Come and tell me at what time you would like to proceed with dinner."

"... I guess."

"Something wrong?"

"I doubt I'm much more enthusiastic than you are about sitting down to dinner!"

"Well, if you feel you don't need my help, then I'd be more than happy to-"

"-It's not_ you_, it's the thought of the three of us trying to carry out a civil conversation!"

The brunette smirks; she is inwardly surprised at how hastily the Sheriff has rushed to explain her feelings are not those of animosity. Dark lips forming a salacious smile, she cocks her head, before nodding the younger woman adieu.

"I promise to be on my best behaviour, dear, and you best get a move on unless you wish to eat anything quick to prepare... I dare not imagine what morsels you and Snow have been surviving off the past few days, but let's just say, if you don't get your affairs in order, we will most likely be suffering through a bowl of some sort of stew... and not one concocted of beef either."

Her smile widens into a full blown grin as she watches Emma hastily take her leave and hurry down the vast hallway as fast as her aching limbs will permit her to go.


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N: **_Sorry for the wait on this fic- I have been mainly focusing on my **'Wet'** fic between these two, due to several evil cliff-hangers, so it was fun to write in this style again! (Also I'm stoked as I have an actual storyline planned for this now!) Please comment, you make my day!_

* * *

"Typical."

Emma glances up at Snow who sits tapping her nails on the expansive mahogany table. The paler woman's eyes are fixed on the heavy doors that line the far side of the room impatiently, and the blonde can't help but feel that some of her housemate's irritation is directed at her.

"I told her the time... She wanted to change..."

"Well then I was right to call her typical... Regina and vanity have been inseparable since birth."

The Sheriff merely shrugs, looking over at one of the maids who stands dutifully against the wall and glaring at the woman until the latter lowers her scrutinizing stare. She is growing used to the way the inhabitants of the land double-take at her to drink in her obscurities, but it is goddamn tiring none the less. She supposes she hasn't helped matters by appropriating a small, gray waistcoat; found in one of the rooms adjacent to Regina's. The garment is meant for a ten to twelve year old boy if the pants and shirts that had played its neighbor were anything to go by, but it fits her well. She could go so far as to say it was flattering, but she holds no delusion that anyone else would agree.

"I just hope we're not being foolish in trusting her..."

"We can trust her."

"You sound so sure?"

"I know Regina."

"You think I don't?"

"She needs us, if she didn't she wouldn't have come looking for us. She needs us to prove herself to Henry. She had a perfect opportunity to let me die and blame it on innocent misfortune. If she planned on causing us any harm, she would have done so already."

"I suppose... I would still hesitate to tell her too much..."

"To tell her _what_? We're out of ideas Mary Margaret! If the woman wants to know my damn pin number, hell, my fucking _bra size_ she can have it!"

"Perhaps just the first, dear."

The two seated women glance up simultaneously as Regina slips gracefully into the room. The brunette takes in the image they portray with a smirk; Snow's dress leaving no question as to her status, sitting rigidly in her high-backed chair beside Emma, who appears to have her legs crossed from the peculiar way she sits and looks up at her bare-faced, messy haired and clad in a way oddly reminiscent of a Victorian chimney sweep.

Making her way elegantly over to the table, the Queen pretends at first not to notice the way green eyes flicker over her feverishly. She has managed to find clothes much more befitting to her person, and wears a sinfully low-cut velvet dress that clings to her liquidly. A diamond harness-necklace centers her breasts and her lips are stained blood red. Taking up her seat at the end of the table, she glances over at the blonde sharply with a knowing flash of dark eyes, and the younger woman seems suddenly engrossed in the ceiling.

"My apologies for the wait, I do hope you weren't too bored."

She directs this last part at Emma who pays it little mind. Mary Margaret purses her lips and tries to resist muttering over at her housemate that she had been right to question the necessity of this dreaded evening.

With everyone present and accounted for, a flurry of servants spill into the room armed with heavy platters, uncorked wine and jugs of mead. They lay out the delectable spread with practiced precession, keeping their heads bowed and eyes lowered. Once the food sits steaming on the large table, they step back, curtseying low as Snow smiles at them kindly.

"That will be all, thank you."

Regina looks over at the maids who remain standing against the wall and barks at them harshly.

"You as well. Leave us."

The maids scurry out, leaving a heavy silence behind them. Snow and Regina seem completely unfazed by this and go about daintily filling up their plates from the curious selection which sits before them. Emma follows suit, deciding to try a little of everything with the notion that if the damned _Mayor_ will eat it, it's probably pretty good.

As the blonde reaches for the jug of mead, she feels bright eyes rest on her warily. Looking up at Mary Margaret, she sighs, pointedly pouring herself an extra large glass before placing the jug back onto the table. An eager sip later has her realizing the castle's mead is notably stronger than that proffered by Lancelot- _Cora... whatever..._ - and she blushes sheepishly. She silently reasons that she doubts Grass Nettle Tonic requires the same caution as Real World medicines when it comes to alcohol. She supposes she'll find out.

"So..."

The Sheriff surveys the two women who play her company at the table awkwardly. Regina raises a shapely eyebrow, seemingly unaffected by the tension in the room, while Snow spears a small piece of leek onto her fork and regards her thoughtfully. Turning her attention to the Queen, the raven headed woman appropriates a cold tone.

"Well, Regina, you know why we're here... how do we go about getting back to Storybrooke?"

The brunette sips her wine thoughtfully, before cutting up a tender piece of meat as she speaks.

"There are several ways I imagine..."

"We tried to use the wardrobe-"

"-_Emma_..."

Mary Margaret warns as the blonde pipes up, the latter glad to be able to offer some knowledge whilst in this strange land.

"What?! If we need her help, we need to cover all bases!"

"Quite...Continue, Miss Swan."

"The wardrobe...The enchanted one Mar- Snow and Charming- used to ship baby me off to Maine... We had thought if we were able to fix it somehow or find... magic... to restore it, we could use it to get back, but it's destroyed."

"Well it's not a completely irrational idea, but I have my doubts as to if you'd have managed to make it work."

"Whether we could or couldn't is irrelevant, the wardrobe is _gone_. How did _you_ get here?"

Snow regards the older woman irritably, feeling incredibly uncomfortable with the entire situation. The brunette glares at her but carries on stiffly.

"Merely an observation, my dear Snow. As for myself, I arrived here using magic. A hair off your head- or pillow- and one off your beloved Charming. True Love, you see, is the strongest magic of all. I intertwined the hairs, much as that little imp did when I created the curse, and procured Miss Swan's diabolical attempt of a hat from Jefferson-"

"-I _knew _you knew who he was!"

"My apologies, dear, it must have slipped my mind... As I was saying, I used the magic created by your love to open a porthole. It stood to reason that it would bring me to either one of you, but alas, I was never one hundred percent positive...Lucky for you both, I was successful."

"So...How do we do that in reverse?"

Regina glances at Emma, the Sheriff's cheeks pink with excitement- or mead- as she jumps to the conclusion that things are going to be just as simple here.

"That is not an option... the hat is useless; without magic it is simply a very poorly manufactured piece of clothing. In this land I have magic, but to get to another land... No simple spell or enchantment is capable of such a thing. The magic required to cross the realms is old magic. Dead magic."

"Dead magic?"

"I would say so... When your mother and father ruled this land and I threatened them with the curse, I have since learned that the tree from which the wardrobe- _your_ wardrobe if you wish to call it that- was carved was one of the very last of its kind. Hence the sorrow and loneliness which followed you. There are no more trees, and there is no chance at a curse...I have heard rumor of a bean-"

"- A bean? What, like jack and the fucking beanstalk?"

"Precisely."

The blonde turns to glance at her housemate as though to check she isn't being toyed with, but Mary Margaret's frown seems less one of disbelief than one of curiosity.

"I thought the beans had been lost with the Great Giant War?"

"Indeed, so I would hazard a guess that the words spread about them are rumors and nothing but."

"Is there not legend of a compass that lies at the top of the stalk?"

"There is, and that was what initially gained my interest... Looking through some of the books down in your library before dinner, however, all accounts agree that the beanstalk carries with it an enchantment which will repel any who try to climb it."

"Well, you're a witch, can't you zap it or something?"

Regina turns to Emma with a roll of her eyes, briefly wondering- not for the first time- how it is that the asinine young woman sitting at the other side of the table came to best her.

"I do not find the term 'witch' to be tasteful, Miss Swan, I am simply the Queen, but being a scholar of magic for a great number of years, oddly enough I was never instructed to 'zap' anything. As for casting a counter-spell, I am not able. My mother created the original enchantment, and she alone would have had the power to break it or find a way around it. Magic is a little trickier than the television would have you believe."

Snow resists rolling her eyes as she hears the blonde muttering something about how it could be that Harry Potter managed on just seven years while constantly on the run from ridiculous deaths when the Queen has had over twenty odd years of sitting on her ass in an unsuspecting town to think up neat little tricks just like the one they now need. Shooting Emma a warning glance, she turns back to the brunette and narrows her eyes.

"Then what_ do_ you suggest?"

"I believe we should discount the compass... which leaves... Older methods."

"Which would be...?"

"There_ are_ portholes which still hold magic enough to do what we need, you've just been looking in the wrong place... The Enchanted Forest is not the place to meet our needs... If we were to go out to sea however..."

"... _Ursula_..."

The raven headed woman lets the word fall from her lips dangerously, her eyes conveying her displeasure at the idea of bargaining with the Sea Witch. The Sheriff, however, swallows her mouthful of mead and regards the other two women with flustered bemusement.

"Wait, wait, wait... Ursula? Like, the Little Mermaid octopus woman?!"

"The very same, only I suggest you don't call her that, dear."

Regina smirks, taking a sip of her wine as her dark eyes sparkle at the blonde who stares at her with her glass raised halfway up to her mouth. The Queen notes absently that the younger woman holds the glass with her left hand and considers warning Emma that the Grass Nettle is only blocking her pain for a short while, but she decides not to do so in front of her mother.

_Why such a thought would even occur to me is decidedly odd... The Swan woman is no longer my concern..._

Snow pulls her from her thoughts as she carries on in a low tone.

"To risk crossing paths with Ursula would be suicide..."

"Why? Can't Regina sort her out? I thought you were the big daddy over here?"

"The 'big daddy'...?

The brunette raises an eyebrow, tickled at the blonde's phrasing. Emma shrugs, elaborating slowly.

"I thought you and Rumplestiltskin were the ones to look out for... Ursula isn't even mentioned in Henry's book, she can't be all that bad."

"Ursula is not mentioned in that book because it does not pay reference to those from other lands unless for explicit reason. I am flattered that you believe me to be all-powerful, dear, but the difficulty lies in that fact that magic from other lands does not always mix well. The Sea Queen is impervious to my brand of magic, however we ourselves are slaves to simple things such as oxygen. She is powerful- and some say mad- but she is the only definite way to a porthole."

"Will there be one to Storybrooke?"

The blonde inquires skeptically as Snow raises her eyebrow in question.

"She controls the sea, and thus the portholes which are created from its waters, I am unsure precisely what she would need, but if it is Storybrooke to which we wish to return then it is there that she will send us... Or rather, it is there that she_ can_ send us."

"She's not been known to be so easy to bargain with."

"Huh, kind of like someone _we_ know..."

"The Sea Witch and I are nothing alike, I can assure you. Unfortunately for us, nor does she work under the golden imp's way of demanding something in return for something else. We have little that would be of interest to her, apart from our company... My company..."

"Yours?"

"And perhaps your mother's."

Snow frowns, taking a nervous sip of her wine as the Queen nods, carrying on in a lower tone, free from its usual richness.

"Ursula is a woman who cloaks herself in power, and she has little interest in surrounding herself in any that are not of symbolic worth. She and I have had the opertunity to converse on several occasions; my standing and my... moralistic views... being favorable to her. We can hope that your mother's status as Ruler of this land will count for something..."

"Okay..."

"We will also hope that your bloodline speaks for something, Miss Swan. I will say this much, however, and you must both listen to me very closely: The Sea Witch is a dangerous woman. In seeking her out, we are already putting ourselves at risk. Snow, you best hope your stature precedes anything that she has heard about you. Miss Swan... You just pray she still sees a drop of honor in the concept of family. If we do this... You do not speak unless I tell you to. You do not do anything without my express say so... I need you to tell me you understand this...Understand that while I will help you, I am not responsible for either of you."

"Understood."

"Understood... I guess..."

The brunette nods, finishing off her wine and rising to leave. With a hard glance at Emma, she turns her attention to Snow and addresses her sternly.

"You know the stories about the Sea Witch, you have them documented in your library... Those stories are true. As you know, Ursula was an acquaintance of my mother's, and I have heard several more. Think on them tonight. You may want to clue in your daughter, but I'll leave such decisions up to you. She's your responsibility... I would advise doing so though..."

Snow nods slowly, watching the brunette leave before calling in the servants. Turning to Emma, she beckons for the younger woman to leave the table, leading her down the great hallway towards the library.


	10. Chapter 010

**A/N: **_Just a short one. This chapter is predominantly dialogue, but I thought it was quite important to the story as a whole to include this. Hope you like it, and, well, you know what to do..._

* * *

The brunette studies herself appreciatively as she sits in front of the ornate dressing table within her newly claimed suite. She had worn her hair swept back stylishly to dinner and now busies herself brushing out her soft locks peacefully. She raises an eyebrow at the soft knock at her door, wondering for a moment who could possibly have any business seeking her council- especially when she has retired to her room- before adopting a knowing smirk; her eyes glittering pleasantly.

"Come in."

"Regina..."

"Oh... It's you."

"...Were you expecting someone else?"

The schoolteacher inquires curiously; sure the Queen's scarlet lips had been pulled into a small smile only seconds ago. Of course, the brunette's instant coldness could also be attributed to her well publicized distaste for Snow herself.

"No, dear, I would just think it to be a little late for social visits..."

"...Well... That's too bad because we need to talk."

"Oh?"

Regina's tone is haughty and arrogant, but she watches the younger woman as she takes a seat at the end of her bed through the glass, raising an eyebrow as a sign that Snow should continue.

"I've spent the last week racking my brains on ways to get back to Storybrooke, and I'll admit that I have no other options to bring to the table as it were... But I need to ask you... Do you_ really_ believe Ursula is our only chance?"

"Well, I wouldn't have suggested it if I thought otherwise..."

"I know. I just needed to ask..."

"Why?... Which one of you is getting cold feet?"

The brunette turns round on her stool to fix the raven headed woman with a scrutinizing stare. Mary Margaret sighs loftily before her shoulders slump and she regards the floor.

"Oh, _Emma_ seems to be under the impression that this might actually be 'kind of fun'..."

"Naivety is a terrible family trait... Did you show her the stories documented on the Sea Witch?"

"... Most of them."

"Ah, now why does that give me pause?"

"She knew the story of Ariel, of course... At least, the first part anyway; the part that was told in the Disney cartoon... I explained the rest of it to her. She... Well, she didn't seem all that _bothered_..."

"How much did you tell her?"

"That the red merwoman was tricked into living a life of crippling pain and punishment above water while the Sea Witch single-handedly massacred Triton and his people... That she took his throne and kept the survivors enslaved... That she never returned the mermaid's voice, but kept it as her own..."

"And this didn't faze her?"

The schoolteacher frowns as she shakes her head.

"No. I think... We heard a _lot_ this week... saw and _went through_ a lot this week. Ursula's legend is just one more reason she wants to get home... She understands the witch is evil, but I don't think she understands the magnitude of it. She-"

"-She's battled a dragon, been sucked into another land by a Wraith, was almost beheaded by an ogre as far as I understand, and has been tossed into a pit by a man who turned out to be the mother of her dearest enemy who then proceeded to try and smash her into tiny broken pieces against a castle wall. In the space of a week... I imagine Miss Swan was in fact fairly unimpressed by Ariel's suffering."

"...Exactly."

Snow glances up at the brunette quizzically, astonished at the Queen's insight to the blonde's behavior. Regina merely shrugs, turning back to her reflection and proceeding to lean forwards to inspect her pores.

"Then she is foolish, but not as foolish as her mother."

"Excuse me?"

"Ariel's story and the plight of the Tritonians is nothing now but juicy gossip left over from a time when you would have barely been able to walk. It is just one of many travesties to occur at the hands of the Sea Queen, and it is most _certainly_ not the reason for which you have come to disturb me tonight... Am I to deduce then, that you told your precious little girl nothing _more_ of Ursula's wrath?"

"What_ good_ is it telling her of such things?"

"... She has a right to know why her mother finds herself so worried. Tell me, Snow, which of the many legends and rumors_ have_ bought you here to me tonight?"

"...You know which one."

"... Delphine."

"Yes."

"Well, dear, then you can rest easy, as not _one_ of us holds the same position as _that_ poor wretch."

"...Emma-"

"-Is the Fair Queen's daughter. She is not Delphine."

"Regina... You said yourself that I'll be lucky if my reputation doesn't prove to be my curse... Ursula's hunger for power and extravagance will leave her sorely disappointed by my rule, as you hinted. The fact that Emma is considered royalty in this land only through her blood tie to myself at this moment in time puts her in what I would foresee as a very precarious position. Never mind the fact that she was never this land's 'princess', whom the people witnessed grow and change and blossom... Or that she's... well... _Emma_."

"Then_ do_ something about it. You were so desperate to play the mother; now's your chance. You_ stop_ her from being 'Emma'... If she does that... The Sea Queen may even take a liking to her... Curiosity always_ was_ her greatest vice."

"... And what about when her curiosity has been sated... I trust you recall just how the story of Delphine _ends_?"

The Queen glances at the paler woman as she sits reflected morosely within the sliver glass. Her brow furrows for just a moment before she tosses back her hair and turns back to regard Snow levelly.

"All too well, dear. Delphine; the youngest daughter of a fisherman who fell to the mercy of the sea when her father's boat capsized. A mermaid of the Mulieres Mares took pity on the drowning girl and pulled her down to the Land Below Water. There she was nurtured and comforted by her savior until the Queen received word of the girl. Ursula sought young Delphine out, intent on getting rid of her, but was transfixed by the young girl's beauty. She offered the merwoman who had taken responsibility for Delphine a promise of good fortune should she hand over the girl to the Queen's court. The merwoman bravely refused, but Delphine was bold and spoke up that she was not to be bartered for, presuming life with the Sea Queen would be rich with luxury, thus allowing Ursula to take ownership of her there and then. The Sea Queen toyed with the young girl and used her for any form of vile amusement her heart desired, before eventually growing tired of Delphine's company as the girl became broken and used. When she deemed her useless, she stripped the girl bare and proceeded to lash her till she bled freely, releasing her into the eel pit where she was consumed to nothing but bone..."

The brunette's eyes glitter fiercely as she recites the tale's conclusion, studying the paler woman who shudders visibly. Turning to put away her brush and several small pieces of jewellry, the Queen's voice is stern when she speaks.

"Emma is not Delphine."

"... But what will become of her, of _any_ of us, if Ursula decides she doesn't take kindly to our trespassing with a plea for help...?"

"I don't care to think about such outcomes, dear."

"That's because you know exactly why I'm here... Why I thought on poor Delphine."

"And why's that?"

"... Look...I know you dislike Emma, and I know your hatred for myself runs black and deep, but right now that doesn't matter. You_ need_ us to get back to Henry, so you have no choice but to listen to me... I followed my daughter into that hateful hat because I couldn't stand taking a chance that anything would happen to her. Evidently... My mere presence is not enough. You know as well as I do that if Ursula decides she wants to play us in any way that she's going to go for Emma. Blood only means so much when in another land... I fear for myself, but I fear for my daughter more... And I need you to give me your word that you will do _everything_ within your power to keep her from hurting Emma, however much you may want her to."

"... I believe I've made it fairly _clear _that I don't wish any harm to come to Emma."

"... For which I am grateful... But you have been given a great many chances before, Regina, and sometimes-"

"- I will not allow Ursula to hurt Emma. Not when it is within my power to stop her from doing so."

"...Thank you."

Regina rises, walking over to the door in a clear request that the schoolteacher take her leave.

"As you two _keep_ reminding each other; I need you both alive. Now. Go and take care of your daughter. Her dressings will need changing and I would guess the Grass Nettle has long since worn off... You will need to keep a small stock of it once we leave here, she is likely to still be in pain. Go to your daughter, and go tell her a bedtime story. She should know the story of Delphine, for no other reason than that it serves to show the Sea Queen's true malice. See to her, and inform her that we shall be leaving this place at noon."

Snow nods, making her way quickly to the door, eagerly wishing to distance herself from the brunette. Turning to regard the older woman briefly before she slips out the room, her voice is quiet; not quite believing everything that seems to be happening.

"...We're really going to the Land Beneath Water..."

"Yes, dear, indeed we are."


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: **_I'm always apologising for the length of these chapters, for which, in turn, I apologise! Due to my schedule, I've kind of reached the decision to upload if and when I can, so yup, I'm afraid that does mean some cliffhangers! Given that this story has only the main plot line sorted and I tend to write chapters as and when, please do tell me if there's anything you wish to see/ change/ add and I'll see what I can do. Otherwise- I hope you enjoy, and please comment!_

* * *

Moving quietly, the brunette pads lightly over to the drawn curtains of the Sheriff's small bedroom. She pulls them open briskly, hoping that the light which now pours hazily into the room will rouse the blonde. When no cries of indignation are bestowed upon her, she turns around curiously. The sight before her causes her to chuckle under her breath. The younger woman appears to have wriggled down the length of the bed in sleep, and now all that remains visible is two paper-pale hands, palms up and fingers splayed as though reaching for help.

As though drowning.

"Miss Swan."

Her tone is loud and unfairly irritable, but she'd rather it was so than to have her voice betraying her sudden discomfort. Slender fingers twitch comically as her bark wakes the blonde, and the darker woman watches with a smirk as Emma lowers the blanket just enough to peer up at her sleepily; her hair a tousled nightmare.

"Regina?"

"Good morning."

"What time is it?"

"High time you got yourself ready... Or had you forgotten about our little upcoming adventure"

"I thought we weren't going till lunchtime?"

"You thought correctly, dear. It seemed like a sensible idea to me, however, that I make a few things a little clearer before we leave."

"Ursula's evil, I get it, _I get it,_ I don't-"

"Well, then, you should have no trouble understanding my reason for visiting you this morning."

"What-"

Green eyes narrow in confusion as the Queen holds up a small bundle of fabric, before the younger woman's sleepy bewilderment abates and she shakes her head sternly.

"That better not be what I think it is..."

Rolling her eyes, the brunette shakes out the garment in her hands so that the dress's full skirt falls heavily down and into shape. She holds it out to Emma who continues to frown at the feminine item murderously before sighing and placing her hands on her hips; the cream dress crumpling against her side.

"Miss Swan, if you only _knew_ the amount of trouble I went through to get myself here so that I could bring you and your mother back for my son... I am not going to return just so that I can tell Henry that his moth- that you were simply too fatally stubborn to dress according to your sex, even for _his _sake."

"Ok, ok."

The blonde grumbles irritably and Regina smirks as she once more holds out the dress victoriously. When the younger woman simply remains huddled beneath her covers, she raises an eyebrow impatiently.

"Well?"

""Uh... I haven't done quite as much digging around in other people's wardrobes as you have..."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning could you maybe give me a little privacy? Please?"

"Ah..."

The Queen's cheeks flush delicately as she turns to place her proffered dress carefully over the stool in the corner. She moves to leave, but is surprised when she hears sheets rustle and the unmistakable sound of footsteps which hails her simply turning her back, and so remains awkwardly facing the wall with a sigh. The quiet mutterings of discomfort answer what was going to be her next question in regards to the younger woman's current level of pain, but she is encouraged to find Emma to be seemingly just as stubborn when it comes to her own body as she is with just about everything else; her low swearing pained but laced with determined irritability. As though she is simply frustrated with her body for succumbing to such a mortal weakness.

"Are you done?"

"Huh?"

Regina huffs with annoyance and turns round to regard the blonde, deciding the younger woman has had more than enough time to sort herself out and refusing to spend a moment longer staring at the wall like a disgraced child.

"What the hell are you-"

"-Just to get into the shower!"

Emma explains quickly as the brunette glares angrily at the shirt and chaps she now wears from the previous day. Rolling her eyes and taking a seat on the Sheriff's recently vacated bed, the brunette offers the younger woman a shooing gesture with her hand, earning herself a similar expression of irritation.

"You're just going to sit there?"

"well I had assumed you may appreciate someone checking over your injuries before we head off into an unknown land in which there may well be no such medical aids as there are here..."

"...I can do it myself, you know..."

"Is that so, dear? With what, may I ask?"

The Sheriff searches the Queen for any signs as to wear she is harboring the promise of disinfectant and fresh bandages, but the brunette merely continues to study her disapprovingly. Finally, with an overly dramatic sigh, the Sheriff turns heel and pads over to the door, purposefully refusing to offer Regina another glance.

* * *

As she stands beneath the cooling water, the blonde studies her feet through slitted lashes as she protects her eyes from the cascade of running water. She would be lying if she were to say she wasn't nervous in regards to their upcoming adventure, but she is also a little relieved to finally be leaving this place.

The time spent here in what was once her mother's castle has been odd; she has been treated with a peculiar silent respect, but the emotion hasn't quite seemed to reach the eyes of the guards and maids that have graced her passing company. She understands the warnings both Snow and Regina have given her in regards to the quest ahead, but she would still rather face this strange unknown than the hateful expectations of those she has seen stare at her in the palace.

In truth, Mary Margaret's stories in regards to the Sea Witch have her more curious that they do fretting; the schoolteacher having explained to her the rueful story of the Little Mermaid, before returning from her walk around the castle to offer her a vague warning in regards to some dimwitted young woman in search of luxury and companionship from a woman seemingly even more despicable than the Queen.

_More 'despicable' than the Queen? A curious way to describe the woman who saved your life..._

She shakes her sodden curls distractedly. The last thing she needs is for her mind to get tangled up with thoughts of the brunette. Just recently, her thoughts have been returning to Regina more and more, and the ideas dancing around beneath pretty cornsilk tresses are definitely not anything she'd wish to share. Frowning beneath the chilled water, she supposes her recent interest in the darker woman may stem from the fact that she suddenly seems present around every corner, but she is wise enough, deep down, to recognize some sort of truce forming between herself and the brunette.

_We are both outsiders looking in... _

_True... But maybe it's more than that..._

"Oh, give me a break!"

Muttering irritably, the blonde finally climbs out from beneath the shower's cold spray, pulling a downy towel around her slim form tightly and raking her fingers roughly through her hair. She studies herself momentarily in the mirror, green eyes darting about her pale features critically. She is loathe to admit that her housemate may have had a point when commenting on her weight decreasing somewhat; her ribs and hipbones creating noticeable twin peaks when looking down at herself. She shrugs in frustration. She has always been slight- eating much and often but burning her fill off easily- and she decides the fragility apparent within her slim frame is simply misleading rather than telling.

Plucking at the virginally cream material of the frock brought to her by the Queen, she wrinkles her nose in disgust. She doesn't much care for dresses, and she suspects Regina, her mother, and god knows who else have their opinions as to why this might be, but in truth, she has just never been keen on receiving the sort of attention given to a woman when wearing such a piece of clothing.

Pulling the garment on clumsily, she shimmies her way this way and that into the offending item, before regarding herself with a critical frown in the mirror. Growling irritably, she storms out the door, and into her bedroom to consult the brunette on her choice of wardrobe.

"What the hell, Regina!?"


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N: **_Because I think Regina would secretly love a chance to dress up Emma... Not that I'm hinting or anything ABC. Hope you enjoy, and please comment! :)_

* * *

_"What the hell, Regina!?"_

The brunette glances up from inspecting her nails curiously. The Sheriff glares down at her furiously as she holds her arms crossed self-consciously over her chest. Painted lips pull back into a sly smirk as Regina looks the blonde up and down.

"What seems to be the problem dear?"

"Are you fucking kidding me?! I look like some sort of blushing farmer's daughter in this fucking thing! And it's goddamn see-through!"

The Queen chuckles as she plucks fussily at the thin material covering the younger woman's slender arm down to her elbow. The dress is a faded cream fashioned delicately from soft cotton, fitting the blonde's frame snugly until it fans out into a full skirt at the waist; integrated petticoats causing the material to sway grandly about her legs. Muscle and bone pushes pleasantly against the light fabric and the brunette eyes the telling dip of the Sheriff's navel with vague intrigue. The unbroken material which covers pale, slim shoulders leaves her in no doubt as to why Emma covers her breasts; the soft cotton cut wide and low across her chest, allowing no inconspicuous way for the blonde to wear a bra beneath.

"Oh hush, I merely brought you the basic dress as I knew getting you to agree to wearing it would be a task in itself... I was hardly prepared to have you mouthing off within earshot of my quarters. Seeing as you have actually behaved much more reasonably that I had anticipated, I would ask that you now accompany me to my bedroom in order to, ah, finish off the ensemble..."

Regina smiles pleasantly, her dark eyes glittering as she beckons the Sheriff with the crook of one slender finger. The glare this garners her causes her to shiver slightly, and she places a hand at the younger woman's waist to steer her out the room instinctively.

She pointedly discards the peculiar thoughts that surface at the sensation of hot flesh felt through deliciously scant material as her fingers brush against the blonde's hipbone.

"Like _hell_ am I going to walk around the halls dressed like this!"

Emma pulls away irritably, her stance awkward as she continues to endeavor to cover herself up. A small grimace of pain at the motion has the brunette retracting her hand instantly, not wishing the younger woman to cause herself any discomfort.

_Not the physical sort anyway. _

Rolling her eyes as though oblivious to the blonde's discreet display of pain, Regina crosses her own arms primly and regards her companion with a theatrical sigh of impatience.

"My dear, only yesterday I was dragging you through the halls in your undergarments, I'm sure you will manage a short flight of stairs in a dress."

"That was... I mean... What the hell, Regina! That was completely different! And if I hadn't been somewhat preoccupied with trying to keep myself from passing out from pain, I'd have_ probably_ had slightly more of a fucking problem with it!"

Pale cheeks blush prettily as the Sheriff snarls with anger.

Pursing her lips and tapping her foot in frustration, the Queen surprises herself as well as the younger woman when she proceeds to throw her hands up into the air with an exasperated sigh.

"Fine."

Strutting moodily towards the door, the brunette huffs irritably over her shoulder in a way disconcertingly similar to that in which she berates her son when the boy decides to act like a brat.

"I have neither the patience nor the will to argue with you, Miss Swan. I will go and fetch the rest of your outfit as this simple act of compliance seems evidently to be beyond your capabilities."

"Oh, shut _up_, Regina! I'm already wearing the damn dress! I just don't want to walk around this goddamn place as good as topless! Is that so damn incomprehensible?!"

With an arrogant sweep of her arm, the Queen holds up her hand as she leaves in a gesture that silences the blonde. Ceasing her angry muttering as she proceeds down the hallway, the brunette's lips form a slow smirk at the unmistakable sound of the Sheriff's door opening and closing behind her. Slowing her strides ever so slightly, she hides her amusement as Emma falls into step beside her with a low growl of 'fine!' to rival any brooding teenager, her heavy skirts flouncing somewhat comically as she marches angrily onward.

* * *

When they reach the Queen's sleeping quarters, the darker woman holds the door silently open so as to allow the blonde to slip inside. During the course of their tense journey up to their current destination the Sheriff's arms have remained firmly crossed over her breasts, adding to her visible act of irritation.

All in all, it is an act the brunette finds strangely endearing. Not that she's prepared to entertain the notion with any real consideration.

"Take a seat on the bed."

"But I thought-"

"-I will fetch you a corset in a moment, dear, but first I wish to see to your injuries."

Leading Emma over to the grand four-poster that centers the large room, the brunette doesn't allow her guest a chance to argue, but merely crowds her until she perches on plush silken sheets and fusses with the abundant material of her skirts. She pushes the multiple layers up to bunch at the younger woman's thighs in order to access the broken flesh at her knees.

The blonde clears her throat awkwardly, a little disconcerted to have the Queen- and subsequently the woman who has spent the past few months working to make her life a living hell- knelt between her legs. Regina glances up at her cooly, sniffing primly as she notes the rosy blush at the Sheriff's cheeks. Paying the obscurity of the situation little mind, she reaches for the small bundle of medical supplies she'd left waiting for her on the stool beside her bed and swabs bruised, skinny knees firmly with rubbing alcohol. Both women imagine there is no real need for such precautions at this stage- the abused flesh at the blonde's knees already starting to heal nicely- but the brunette feels the need to punish the younger woman for the awkwardness she has veiled over their current position.

"Hold _still_, will you!"

Regina growls irritably, gripping the blonde's thigh firmly as the latter jerks her leg away from the harsh sting of the alcohol. She cringes inwardly, acutely aware that Emma's reaction is the result of the fact that her unnecessarily rough ministrations have caused one of the lacerations to begin bleeding again. Cleaning away the thin trickle of scarlet dribbling down the blonde's shin, she presses a patch of gauze to the wound carefully. It is only then that she realizes her other hand still rests midway up the younger woman's thigh. Retracting her fingers swiftly, she primly goes about securing the dressing in place with a narrow bandage, tucking the white ends neatly into place.

"Elbow."

Dark eyes flash up to regard the Sheriff briefly as the younger woman instinctively shimmies a little to the side in a silent invitation that the brunette should take up a seat beside her. Emma seems oblivious to her uncharacteristically amiable gesture, her eyes lowered to the flimsy fabric of her dress as she rolls the sleeve up to allow access to her arm. The action has her finally lowering her prim shield from her chest and the Queen immediately scolds herself as her attention wanders slightly from the blonde's injury.

_Well if she's going to hold herself up as such a prize, it is only natural for the mind to wish to view what it has been previously forbidden._

Shaking herself firmly from her thoughts, the darker woman reverts her attention purposefully to the broken flesh at the Sheriff's elbow.

"You've done quite an impressive job here, Miss Swan."

"That's kind of you to say, but I can't take all the credit."

Emma bites her tongue belatedly, cringing as she realizes what she's said, but Regina remains expressionless as she continues to clean the damaged area methodically. Studying the darker woman pensively, the blonde's voice is quiet when she breaks the silence.

"Are you sure you're happy to go today?"

"Is there a reason I shouldn't be?"

"...Your mother... They're burying her tomorrow, and-..."

The Sheriff trails off uncomfortably, taking heed of the brunette's previous warning in regards to privacy concerning her feelings towards her mother's passing.

It is for this reason, perhaps, that the Queen glances up at her and responds with a sigh.

"Miss Swan... I endured my share of grieving for my mother long ago... I wish for her to be laid to rest in a way that is both respectable and befitting of her stature... But this is no longer my land and these are not my people... It is not a ceremony I desire to be a part of... I've dealt with this alone, and that is the way in which I wish to continue to do so."

"Okay."

Regina's breath hitches in her throat as pale fingers find her hand momentarily; not quite holding it, but brushing over it awkwardly as though not entirely sure what their mistress wishes of them.

Almost as soon as she touches the brunette, the Sheriff's hand disappears to rest resolutely back in the lap of her skirts. The older woman clears her throat quietly and goes quickly about patching up the deep grazes at the blonde's elbow.

Rising briskly from the bed, Regina turns her back on the younger woman as she moves to her dressing table to retrieve the garment laid out over the chair. She holds it up for Emma's inspection and prepares herself for another bout of pointless argument.

"Please tell me you're kidding?"

"Not really my style, dear."

"Well I don't think I need to tell you that _that_ isn't_ my _style!"

"I would hardly count myself surprised by such knowledge, no."

Despite the blonde's bitching, she pushes herself up off the bed, regarding the stiff corset the Queen holds out warily. Regina nods in approval, fussing with the intricate lacing which holds the item together as she requests the Sheriff stand up straight and relax.

"Hold out your arms a little."

"I'm pretty sure I can put on a corset, Regina..."

"Oh really, and how many times have you practiced doing so?"

"Well... none... but how hard can it be?"

"It is an art form- don't roll your eyes; there is a difference between incomprehension and ignorance- and with the stakes as high as they are, I suggest you give in to your stubbornness and allow me to help you."

With an ill-concealed glower, the Sheriff raises her arms a little in cooperation, blushing awkwardly as the brunette steps in front of her and slips the unforgiving fabric deftly around her back and begins to fasten the small, metal clasps into place at the front. She works upwards, starting with the hooks centered between the blonde's hips before working skillfully up her torso. She tugs the stiff fabric into place firmly, wiggling and pulling the twin panels of fabric so that they push up the younger woman's bosom purposefully. Avoiding Emma's incredulous glare, the Queen simply rolls her eyes, not prepared to argue over the correct way to fasten a corset. Happy with the way the fabric sits on the blonde's slim frame, Regina moves to stand behind her so as to work at the intricate lacing that lines the back.

"As I'm sure you're aware, the purpose of this garment is to create a pleasing silhouette, and in doing so, these laces are to be pulled tightly. I hope you're not going to prove petty when it comes to a little discomfort now, dear."

Her tone is firm, bordering on patronising. She needs Emma to appropriate the ensemble convincingly, and knows the best way to assure the younger woman's cooperation in this particular matter is to goad her with the suggestion she may prove to be weak. Continuing with a careful lack of emotion, she begins to pull at the white lace of the corset forcefully, alternating between the two ties while her spare hand presses firmly against the blonde's back to keep her in place.

"However, if you should feel any pain which you imagine to be due to the injury sustained to your ribs rather than simple constriction from the corset... tell me, okay?"

"Okay."

Emma grits her teeth as the brunette yanks repeatedly at the hateful lace of the corset. The heavy material pulls against her stomach viciously and her ribs feel as though they have been caught in a vice. Glancing down at herself distractedly, the Sheriff grumbles as she is accosted with what seems to be a ridiculously vast expanse of globed flesh, pushed up high and wanting.

"Oh good, I always wondered what I'd look like if I decided to take up hooking..."

Regina rolls her eyes, finally tying the corset into place, before slipping back round to face the blonde and inspect her properly.

_Good god but the woman has a delectable figure..._

"Not bad."

"That's it? Not bad? After all that, I better look fucking fantastic!"

"Now lets not get carried away, dear."

The Queen quips easily as the younger woman lets out an amiable sigh. Leading the blonde over to her vanity mirror, Regina sits her down- smirking at the way the Sheriff moves as though paralyzed from the waist up- and takes a brush to her hair.

Watching the darker woman quizzically through the mirror, Emma questions her curiously.

"Any reason why I'm suddenly acting as your living doll?"

"There are certain expectations that are to be adhered to where we are going."

"... You've spent time with Ursula before, haven't you?"

"I have been in her acquaintance on several occasions, yes. She was a friend of sorts of my mother's."

"... That doesn't exactly fill me with confidence..."

"Nor should it... Snow informed you of her past?"

"Yeah... I don't know... I mean, I understand where you're both coming from... But I guess a part of me still kind of expects her to break into song..."

"Then I suggest you strive to banish such foolish fancies. The Sea Witch is not a force to be reckoned with, Miss Swan."

"I know, I know... I still don't get why I have to look like_ this_ though... I mean _you're_ not wearing a fucking corset and ballgown!"

Green eyes flicker over the reflected form of the Queen; the older woman clad in a purple fringed black dress-coat and sinfully tight leather pants. Regina smirks at her through the glass, continuing to comb silken gold through her fingers.

"Unfortunately, dear, it kind of goes with your role."

"My role?"

"The fair Queen's equally fair little daughter... You are to convey purity and innocence."

Scarlet lips flash with a wicked grin as the brunette chuckles at the thought. Emma raises an eyebrow skeptically, regarding the Queen with visible sarcasm.

"Oh sure, because the cut of this dress just _screams_ innocence..."

The darker woman's eyes flash down to the generous amount of cleavage the blonde has on display before letting out a quiet laugh as she puts away her hairbrush.

"The dress suggests, ever so coyly, that you are eligible; that you are of age."

"Of age?! What the hell does _that_ mean? And coincidentally, isn't it going to prove a bit of a problem that my 'age' happens to be the same as my mother's?"

"The situation with Snow and yourself is indeed _peculiar_, but do not forget that this is a land of magic. Stranger things have happened. No, what I meant as far as you being of age was entirely in a theatrical sense. Snow is a member of royalty, and she should be wise enough to dress accordingly. _Your_ trump card, if you will, lies within your bloodline, dear, and as such, depicting you as a fair young maiden serves to play out the little scene we wish to create... The Sea Witch has always had a taste for that which is pretty and untainted..."

"...Did you just call me pretty!?"

"If I did, then I also called you untainted. Clearly, I was referring to how we should wish Ursula to perceive you... I myself_ know_ better..."

"Whatever."

The brunette tugs at the Sheriff's long curls irritably as the younger woman offers her a sly grin. Rolling her eyes and stepping away from the blonde, she inspects the latter with clinical efficiency before nodding her approval.

"I suppose you'll do. Come, let's go find your mother. I imagine she's likely to assume there's some dark magic in play, so please do hasten to tell her you are clad this way willingly... Or, at least, that you are somewhat of sound mind. Preferably _before_ she decides to displace my head with her sword."


	13. Chapter 13

**A/N: **_A bit of a random chapter, but I scribbled it up while I was supposed to be working earlier and thought it was ok. I almost didn't add this, as I realise Emma may seem quite bitchy in this scene to some people. As I've said before, Emma's my favourite character personally, but I do try my best to write all of the characters fairly, and I think (or I hope, anyway) that this is quite a genuine scene as I imagine it is the way someone would react to these things. (Basically, please don't litter me with character hate :) Critique and suggestions are, of course, always appreciated, however.) Hopefully this just works to tie things together._

* * *

"How far away is it?"

Regina turns to face the two women sat opposite her in the carriage, fixing Snow with a brief glance before focusing her attention once more on the passing scenery.

"To the shore? At this pace it should only take us a couple more hours now. We will get there before sundown."

"And then what?"

"We head out to sea."

"Wait... we just... get in the water?"

Looking back to regard the blonde, the Queen offers her a tight smile; the younger woman finally speaking up after the past couple of hours spent in sullen silence. She notes the way Emma holds herself uncomfortably rigid due to her inexperience in wearing a corset, imaging that sitting in such a way since noon is taking its toll on the Sheriff.

She says nothing, however, sure that the blonde's lack of irritable complaint has been for the schoolteacher's benefit and deciding to play along.

_It's not that I want to do Emma a favor... More that I just don't want to listen to the insufferable woman beside her coddle and fuss for the next few hours._

Nodding her head curtly, she takes an apple from her pocket and nibbles at it appreciatively as the two younger women look on with visible apprehension.

"In a way, yes. We go out onto the water in a boat."

"Where do we get the boat from?"

"If we require a boat, we will be gifted with one. You're traveling with this land's Queen; both former and present, dear."

"...Lucky me."

"Emma..."

The brunette watches, bemused, as the raven headed woman stares at the Sheriff with an expression of hurt gracing her features, wondering how it is that she herself is supposedly the one with no real interest in the blonde's wellbeing and yet she seems to be the only one aware of the way the younger woman sips every now and then from the small flask held surreptitiously to her side. Thinning her lips, she leaves her companions to their silent glowering and studies the trees as they fade past in a green haze.

_Perhaps we should have waited a few more days before setting off; if she's in pain _now_, what happens when the tonic is gone and we find ourselves below water at the mercy of the Sea Queen?_

Sighing, her dark eyes glimmer with the pale reflection cast up by the light dusting of snow that covers the beaten track on which they travel. Finishing off her apple, she pulls at the coarse fabric which acts as a blind to the carriage and tosses the core out into the forest's undergrowth.

"What happens when we get out onto the boat? How do we find Ursula?"

"There is an old trick my mother taught me... It works to illuminate the whereabouts of the Sea Kingdom. Once we are directly above it, we swim the rest of the way."

"Wait... We just trust some shiny light or whatever and abandon ship?"

"That is correct."

"And swim happily down to the bottom of the fucking ocean?!"

"Oh, I daresay you won't be 'happy' about it, Miss Swan."

"You think?! Because it sounds like a brilliant way to get ourselves _killed_ if you ask me!"

"Well, fortunately, dear, no one _is _asking you."

"...Emma, it'll be fine, I'm not going to let anything happen to you..."

Snow's eyes flash brightly with moisture as the hand she extends to clasp the Sheriff's is batted irritably away. Studying the pale woman intently as she gives a watery sniff and stares gloomily out the window, the brunette clears her throat before rising from her seat and pulling on a small cord that hangs by the door, causing the carriage to come to a slow halt as the galloping of the horses pulling them slows instantly. Eyeing the miserable looking schoolteacher, she opens the door to the cart with a flourish and lowers herself down onto the path, relishing the way the act allows her aching muscles a chance to stretch out.

"There is a freshwater stream that runs a little way off the path here, I suggest we fill up our supplies."

She waits with her hands on her hips as Snow climbs out the carriage with a mumbled request that Emma do the same. Rolling her eyes when the blonde proceeds to do no such thing, the Queen holds out a small canteen to the schoolteacher and suggests she go top it up with water while she checks their coordinates with the sullen looking little man that crouches atop the cart. Waiting until the paler woman disappears into the trees, she marches back to the entrance of the carriage and barks at the Sheriff sternly.

"Get out."

"I'm fine, I don't want any water."

"I'm not _asking_."

"Well who the hell put _you_ in charge?"

"_I _did, when I came up with a way to get us home. Now get out of the carriage or I'll drag you out myself."

"Ok, _ok_, calm the fuck down..."

Regina takes a step back to allow the blonde to slip past her and down onto the frozen track, dark eyes flashing as the younger woman staggers slightly before finding purchase of the side of the cart and holding herself up.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Nothing!"

"Uh uh, 'nothing' doesn't explain why you're behaving like such a brat. You're a grown woman; act like one!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake! Leave me alone!"

"No."

The Sheriff glares at her irritably, but the Queen pays this little mind as she notes the pallor to the blonde's cheeks.

"Give me the flask."

"Why?"

"Oh for god's sake, woman! Because I'm asking you to!"

Plucking tarnished silver from slim fingers, she is immediately aware that the vessel is all but a few sips away from empty. Shaking her head as she massages her brow with her knuckles, she regards the younger woman with a sigh.

"Turn around."

"What?"

"... Could you just do as I say. Please?"

Ignoring the way green eyes glower at her momentarily, she waits for the blonde to tire of her act and simply comply. Eventually, Emma rolls her eyes- the gesture undeniably half hearted- and turns to face the muddied side of the carriage. Regina stalks up behind her silently, threading her fingers swiftly through tight white laces and working deftly at the knot which holds the younger woman's corset together until it begins to yield. Working stiff fabric from side to side, she loosens the garment's hold.

"Fu-uck..."

The brunette frowns as the Sheriff lets out a low groan, noting the pained hitch to the latter's breath.

"Why didn't you_ say_ something?"

"Huh?"

"I did it up too tight... Why didn't you just_ tell_ me?"

"I... Well, I didn't even know you _did_. I've never worn one of the damn things, I kind of figured it was _supposed_ to be that way."

"It _is_, but I distinctly remember telling you to let me know if it was hurting your ribs."

"I thought it'd just ease up..."

"It clearly didn't!"

"Well no shit!"

"Don't get snippy with _me_! _I'm_ not the idiot that's been sitting there in pain for the past few hours too stubborn to tell anyone!"

"I-..."

The brunette moves to stand before the Sheriff as the younger woman mutters something inaudible. Assessing her chalky complexion and downcast eyes, she raises a hand to cup her ear theatrically, her tone rich with sarcasm.

"What was that? I didn't hear you?"

"Never mind."

"No, go on, enlighten me. You what?"

"I was embarrassed! _Happy_?!"

Straightening up and regarding the blonde with open curiosity, the Queen smooths back her hair with an expert flick of her finger, dark eyes shimmering as they hold the Sheriff's gaze.

"Why? Why would the fact that wearing a tight corset caused your ribs to ache after what was by all accounts a pretty horrendous injury_ embarrass_ you?"

When her question is met with uneasy silence, she sighs, handing the younger woman back her flask; her fingers brushing momentarily against Emma's.

"Your pride will be your undoing if you're not careful, Miss Swan. That was all the Tonic that we brought with us... I only hope you're not about to learn a decidedly painful lesson..."

She expects the Sheriff to quip back at her irritably. Something along the lines of 'like you wouldn't just love that'. She can even picture the intoxicating rage dancing in the blonde's eyes when saying it.

Inexplicably entrancing.

Instead, Emma just sighs, glancing down at the flask in her hand before regarding the older woman warily.

"I probably deserve to... Look, I know I'm acting like a bitch, and I'm sorry... Really. I just... I'm not _good_ with shit like this."

"...You're not good with dealing with pain while the prospect of entering an underwater world overseen by a woman about which you have received grave warning- ironically from the lips of the woman of whom you are already understandably wary- looming ever nearer? Well, dear, I suppose such apprehensions _could_ be understood."

"Well when you put it that way..."

The brunette rolls her eyes as the Sheriff cracks a tentative grin, refusing to allow any in depth thought as to the fact that she and Emma seem currently to be more on the same level than the blonde and her own damn mother.

"I suggest you go and dilute the rest of that tonic with water, Miss Swan... And a word of advice: Don't allow stubbornness to masquerade as pride. One is much more attractive than the other."


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N: **_This fic is ending up a lot longer and, well, 'story-like' than I'd originally planned. I hope you enjoy, and feel free to leave any requests as to ideas for shorter pieces to see you through your Swan Queen needs :) Please review!_

* * *

By the time they near the shore, the sky has taken on a scarlet hue as the sun sets heavily over the horizon. The blonde watches the Queen silently as the curious glow plays patterns across pretty, defined features. She remains rigidly still, Mary Margaret sleeping soundly with her head rested on her shoulder after accepting a brief apologetic squeeze of her hand upon reentering the carriage. Giving in to a gnawing cramp from her unyielding position, the Sheriff gently moves so that her right arm encircles her housemate's shoulders, the raven headed woman's eyelashes fluttering a little before she resumes her quiet slumber pressed against the blonde.

"Have you ever actually been down to the underwater kingdom or whatever you called it?"

Regina glances up, graciously hiding the smirk that threatens to alight her lips as she takes in the younger woman's new position, and nods, keeping her voice low to match Emma's when she speaks.

"Once, yes. My mother and father were invited down for a soiree when I was very young."

"How did you... Like, how do you breathe down there? Do we need some kind of scuba stuff?"

The brunette smiles, wondering just what sort of reaction the Sheriff would garner should she go out requesting such a thing in this land. Her expression remains uncharacteristically soft, however, acutely aware of the detectable note of panic in the younger woman's voice.

"No, dear. I'm afraid I remember very little, I would have only been about six when I went down there, but I know that there is air in the actual kingdom, much like the air up here. The land exists under a dome created and protected by what is pretty much a Royal Guard. Inside the dome things are in many ways much the same as on land."

"Oh... A-Are you a strong swimmer?"

"... Are you not?"

"I can swim... But it's been a good few years since I have done..."

"Well, your dress will do some of the work for you, it will weigh you down and pull you under."

Regina sighs at the visible panic that flashes across the blonde's pale features, shaking her head as she continues.

"That is a _good_ thing, Miss Swan. The sooner you find yourself reaching the barrier, the sooner you will be able to breathe."

"What is this 'barrier'. How do we get through it?"

"We will be granted passage."

"What if... What if we don't? If we get down there and she won't let us in? We'll... Well we'll _drown_, won't we?"

"...That's unlikely to happen, dear. You see, Ursula's greatest flaw is her curiosity. She won't allow such an unusual opportunity to pass her by. When we make our way over the kingdom by boat, she will be alerted to our presence via the spell I will cast to make her land visible. She will let us pass the border. After that, I simply can't say, but she won't leave us out there to drown."

The brunette offers the Sheriff a tight smile as the latter nods uneasily. Returning her attention back to their passing surroundings, she is surprised when Emma interrupts her once more, having thought the blonde would rather remain silent than risk having her fearfulness displayed quite so openly.

_Well, this isn't a simple fear of the dark or spiders. The woman believes- and understandably so- that she's a few hours away from drowning._

"Sorry?"

"I just think it's weird is all."

"What is?"

"Well... That there's air at_ all_ down there... Can't mermaids breathe underwater? I mean, they_ live_ there... makes sense?"

"They can."

"Then why live in a dome free of water? How do they even swim?"

"They do not. Contrary to what Disney would have you believe, a mermaid is a creature of multiple forms. She exists in the water in the shape you probably associate with the species- the torso and head of a woman, but with the tail of a fish- but she will take on a human form once inside her kingdom. I believe various aspects of the anatomy are a little different, for instance, I seem to remember them still possessing gills even in their human state, but visually, they are very similar to you or I."

"Wait... So they can grow legs? But I thought Ariel-"

"-Ariel wanted to live up on land. Such a thing is impossible. Or, at least, it _should_ be."

"So they can't just grow legs and get out the water?"

"No, dear, the only way they are able to exist at _all_ in the kingdom without water is due to the powerful magic cast upon the realm by the Sea Queen herself. I have heard rumors, interestingly, that a great many of the land's patrons still sleep within a water-filled chamber, despite the enchantment, for comfort."

"But why bother, then?"

"How do you mean?"

"Like, why not just fill the realm with water if that's how they breathe?"

"I believe parts of it are in fact underwater. However, humans can't breathe underwater, regardless of whether or not they become enchanted."

"So... Humans often travel down there? I kind of thought we were doing something_ crazy_ the way you two made it sound... I-"

"-Oh, for us to be actively searching the kingdom out_ is_, as you put it, 'crazy', it is a place that those with any other option would strive to avoid, but humans do come in contact with the merfolk down there... Just not by choice."

"... It's a little deep down to be accidentally stumbling across a hidden sea-village, no?"

"Oh, indeed, the Kingdom exists several fathoms underwater. No, the poor, unfortunate souls that wind up at the merfolk's mercy will be fishermen for the most part. They will be hijacked and brought down into the kingdom to suffer a slow death; an exhibition of their passing if you will... A great deal of bad blood still exists between the mermaids and those from the land- particularly humans, as is always the way- and they are not a species that find it easy to forget."

"Forget what?"

"Years ago, and I mean long before even my parents were born, before the Underwater Kingdom existed and the merfolk simply inhabited the sea, they were often hunted down for sport. Kind of like shark baiting I suppose. Their tails hold within them a rare oil, you see, which was highly sought after by alchemists and those who practice magic alike. There was a purpose to it, in the wish to obtain the oil, but there was also a simple cruelty to the act. I believe in Henry's history books it was what you would call a genocide."

"...Shit..."

"So you see, the merfolk do not take kindly to us from the land."

"Fantastic..."

The brunette purses her lips as the Sheriff rolls her eyes, before rising abruptly to pull at the cord that hangs by the carriage's door.

"We're here."

Emma leans forward to peer out the window, subsequently disturbing her housemate's slumber, the latter blinking in confusion as she pushes herself up from the blonde's warm comfort.

"What's happening?"

"We're here... apparantly."

The Queen glances over at the Sheriff with an ill-hidden smirk, the rueful sarcasm dripping from the younger woman's tongue beautifully familiar if a little bemusing.

"This is not a dock like back home, Miss Swan, our ports are for setting off on and returning from voyages only; there is little business to be peddled out at sea,"

She gathers her heavy coat about her and slips easily from the carriage as it draws to a smooth stop, beckoning that the others follow her out onto the dusky sand. Once all three women stand out on the deserted beach, the Queen slaps one of the cart's horses on the rear and the carriage takes off into the distance. She smirks silently at the horrified look that graces the blonde's pale features as she watches their means of transport disappear over the dunes.

"What... What now?"

"We send Snow off down there to request a ship."

She points to a small wooden building just visible about half a mile down a rocky path. The schoolteacher frowns irritably while her housemate shakes her head in pure refusal.

"No way, we stick together, if Mary Margaret goes down there, I'm going with her."

"I don't think that's wise, dear."

"She's not going out there alone! What even_ is_ that place?"

"Emma... It's fine."

The look that graces the paler woman's face suggests she's having a hard time believing her own words, but she cant deny the sensation of warmth that alights in her chest as the blonde moves to stand protectively in front of her.

"It is _not_ fine! We-"

"Miss Swan, may I remind you that you are a stranger here. Snow goes alone as it is _she_ that holds the most power amongst the three of us. If we all go, we risk drawing unnecessary attention- it may not surprise you to learn that I am hardly what you would call popular around these parts- and if you tag on after her, we risk you opening that unruly mouth of yours. Snow will go down to the fisherman's tavern as this land's royalty and demand a ship. A small vessel will do just fine, so long as it runs in such a way that we are able to captain it. Something with an engine of sorts would be preferable, Miss Blanchard, given as I doubt the young princess here is up to much rowing."

She points at Emma who scowls murderously at the title. Snow nods compliantly, knowing the land well enough to appease her mind as to any danger that may befall her. Regina has spoken correctly; it is the brunette who the land's people seek a chance to punish, not the Fair Queen. Pulling Emma to her gently- amiably ignoring the irritable grumbling the gesture garners her- she embraces the blonde tightly before stepping back to study her sternly.

"Stay with Regina. I'll back in a short while."

"This is bullshit! Come on, I won't even open my goddamn mouth! Please! I don't want you going off alone!"

Shaking her head, the raven headed woman turns away, not before offering the brunette a warning glance that the latter finds incredibly loathsome.

_Really? _Still_? Still with the 'don't you go hurting my baby' stare? If I'd wanted to harm the woman I would have had her writhing and begging on the floor by now._

"Stay here."

She barks at the blonde, feeling a little as though she is talking to an ill-behaved dog. Emma throws her a dirty look that suggests she feels much the same.

"You're sure she's ok going down there on her own? If it's a tavern kind of place won't there be a bunch of drunken men lurking around? I don't like this..."

Sighing, the Queen shakes her head as she joins the younger woman in watching Snow's pale figure retreat down the rocky path.

"Things don't work quite the same way here, dear, she is far too well regarded for any she comes across to stand for her being accosted in such a way. _You_, well, the same rule doesn't apply. Despite the legend of the curse and that of the Savior, I'm afraid you are somewhat glorified as an infant rather than the woman you are... And with the way you're currently dressed, I would rather you didn't go down there. _Me_, well, I don't think anyone will be all to happy to see me around here."

"... But in the castle-"

"-In the castle things are different. That is what you could call my 'home turf'. Yes, it now belongs once more to your mother, but so long as she allowed me to walk its halls freely, I was still regarded with some sort of respect. Out here... Let's just say I am comforted with the knowledge that the lack of my power has not been noticed."

"You still can't use magic properly?"

Regina regards the blonde levelly, her hair whipping about her face as she narrows her eyes against the frigid chill of the sea air. The look on the younger woman's face is one of simple curiosity, and the Mayor wonders if this is what it would have been like had she had the chance to explain things to Henry.

"I can... But it is weaker than it once was..."

"How come?"

"I'm unsure... I suppose it could be simple lack of use... Or perhaps being in your world dampened it somehow... I am able to perform simple spells, as I did when healing you and as I will when we get out onto the water... But I am having trouble commanding large surges the way I used to..."

"I guess you just need to fall back into it or something."

The blonde states simply, shrugging companionably as she squints against a particularly brutal gust of wind. Watching as the Mayor shivers visibly, she moves on instinct- thinking nothing of it- so that she acts as a shield against the harsh wind, her long hair whipping about wildly as the sea crashes down below. Her change of position is not lost on the brunette, however, and she regards the younger woman curiously as the latter stares down into the hellish waves.

"How's the pain?"

"Better now that the corset's looser... Thanks."

"What about when you move your arms, will you be able to swim."

"I'll be able to _sink_..."

The blonde smirks jovially, her sarcasm an obvious mask for her fear but the darker woman allows her this small charade, chuckling lightly.

"I'm sure you'll manage."

"Does it look okay, though?"

The brunette blinks in surprise, her eyes flickering over the Sheriff's svelte form a little distractedly, thrown off by the question. Before she can summon a catty remark to hide her awkwardness, Emma elaborates on her question.

"There's no point me wearing all this shit if it's not convincing, right?"

"...Right. No, dear, you look fine. Lucky for you, you're naturally slim, we don't need to orchestrate putting lipstick on a pig."

The blonde laughs at this analogy huskily, her good humor making her look much younger when coupled with the lack of harsh liner to her eyes. Smiling herself, the Queen pushes back her wind mussed hair, the eery glow of the setting sun painting them both scarlet.

"I'm nervous.

Her words are abrupt, sudden, and from the blush that colors the younger woman's cheeks the brunette wonders if she'd meant to admit such a thing out loud. Regarding the blonde thoughtfully, she nods before averting her gaze to the jagged rock that lines the shore.

"I would think you foolish if you weren't..."

"Are you?"

"A little, yes."

_A lot. A whole lot. You have no idea, my dear..._

"Come, there goes your mother down towards the shore. Let's hope she was successful."


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: **_And so, the last chapter before the storm. Enjoy, and please review._

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The vessel the Fair Queen has managed to procure for them is an understated fisherman's boat, small and rather worse for wear, but with one crucial advantage; fitted to the rear is a crudely simple steam-powered motor which now works fitfully to propel them through the water. With the last streaks of red from the setting sun staining the sky, the three women find themselves predominantly shrouded in darkness, and this peculiar lack of light plays eery shadow across their faces; eyes appearing deep and sunken, cheekbones emaciated and mouths drawn as their flesh is painted a ghastly scarlet.

"We're really doing this..."

Snow's voice is low and if she had meant to keep the panic from her tone she hasn't succeeded. Her eyes glimmer frightfully in the darkness as she watches the shore disappear over the horizon with a sickly shiver, and when Emma moves to sit beside her she grabs the blonde's hand desperately and is relieved when the younger woman doesn't pull her fingers away.

"Yes, we're really doing this."

Regina states quietly, her hair held back from the sea-wind's wrath by a silken scarf that had originally been looped about her waist. She sits at the front of the small boat, her eyes cast to the vast emptiness of the sea rather than towards the land they have left and she wonders silently if she is being a fool allowing the two younger women to come with her.

She needs them- that much is true- for Henry, but she is aware that in bringing them down to the Underwater Kingdom she may be putting herself at a greater risk. Her words to Snow have been optimistic at best, and now, as they find themselves sailing away from any other option, she can't help but think that she may be fatally mistaken in presuming Ursula will have any interest in the raven headed woman's stature. If this is the case, there is a good chance she's leading the other two down to their slaughter.

Swallowing, she wonders if the Sea Witch knows about her mother's passing.

"How far out do you think we need to go?"

Emma's question pulls her from her thoughts and she turns to face the blonde distractedly. Dark eyes boring into the younger woman as the pale moon rises above them, she finds herself momentarily transfixed by the Sheriff. The eery moonlight casts the blonde's hair and eyes silver and the grazes and bruises that have yet to fade from her pale face are accentuated with a somehow cruel beauty.

_Not Delphine, no, but I fear your mother may have been right, dear. If Ursula is to play any of us, I believe it will be you, and for that, I am sorry, I truly am, but I need to get home to my son. If my choice lies between your life and Henry... Well, there's no point even thinking on such things._

"A while farther still. You see how the sky is tinged with amber? It's very subtle, but that's light pollution. You can't see the lights themselves but while that glow still exists we can rest assured we are too close to the land yet. When the sky is clear and the only light comes from the moon, we should begin our search."

"Okay... The way you talk over here is so funny..."

"...How so?"

Regina sniffs and the Sheriff grins as she catches a definite hint of offense in the brunette's words. Shrugging, she elaborates pleasantly.

"Just because you know a lot about all this stuff and it's all so crazy to me. You're speaking about magic and Kingdom's like it's the most normal thing in the world, which I guess it is to you... I don't know... I quite like it... I feel like you're telling me a bedtime story."

The blonde laughs lightly as Snow frowns beside her. Raising an eyebrow, the Queen lets out her own throaty chuckle and shakes her head.

"You are easily impressed, Miss Swan."

"Oh, I never said I was _impressed,_ Your Majesty"

Regina rolls her eyes at the impish flicker of tongue the Sheriff offers her and pulls the scarf that covers her hair back into place. She watches as Emma's long curls whip chaotically behind her, dark eyes drinking in liquid silver.

"Well, when we reach our destination, I wonder if you will still find yourself as amused, dear... Whether or not you do, I will take this time to remind you that you are to keep such things to yourself. You don't speak unless I prompt you to do so, understand?"

The blonde glowers at her, but keeps her mouth shut which the Queen takes as a silent form of agreement. She glances at Snow who nods slowly, accepting that the same rule will apply to her, before resuming her study of the tar black sea.

Her absence from the realm has her wondering on what dangers they may face before they even reach the dreaded Sea Kingdom. To her knowledge, the open water remains free from any other threats of a magical nature; sirens and nymphs preferring freshwater. She is unsure, however, whether they should be fearful of more natural predators; sharks, squid, whales and who knows what else not really being something she knows a lot about.

_I know I don't wish to cross paths with such vermin..._

Discarding such thoughts as something she simply can't do anything about, she glances up at the ink-black sky and clears her throat.

"This is probably far enough..."

She glances back at the two younger women who regard her silently and she finds herself suddenly absurdly stage shy. She is unwilling to allow the possibility that they will have come this far for her power to betray her now. Fussing with her coat primly, she purses her lips and closes her eyes. Channeling her thoughts, she murmurs the incantation learnt from her mother quietly beneath her breath and shudders as she feels a great familiar warmth sweep over her.

"Holy _shit_!"

Opening her eyes, she looks up at the blonde irritably, frowning when she notes the way the younger woman sits bathed in an eery green light. Glancing at Snow, she finds it is not just Emma, but the whole boat that has become illuminated, and when she casts her gaze over the side of the ship, she takes in a sharp breath as she is met with a dazzling light glittering sporadically off shallow waves.

"It worked."

Snow breathes quietly, and any irritation the brunette would usually have towards the raven headed woman's obvious doubt in her abilities is forgotten as the reality of their situation finally sinks all the way in.

"We'll travel a little further that way, over to where the light is brightest..."

"...And then we... we get in?"

The Sheriff asks nervously and the Queen regards her with a rather lackluster expression of authority and simply nods.

"Okay. Let's do it."

Emma makes her way to the back of the boat and the brunette cringes a little at the pained set of the blonde's jaw as she moves. Reaching for the rudder, the Sheriff coaxes the boat to veer a little to the left and waits for the the command that she should shut off the engine.

"That's enough."

They wait tensely as the quiet putting of the engine dies and cloaks them in silence. Remaining this way for several minutes, it is Snow who speaks up shakily and rallies them together.

"Right... So... I guess this is it."

"Yeah."

"I believe so."

Looking over to the brunette fearfully, the schoolteacher swallows as she moves clumsily over to the side of the boat to stand next to Emma. Regina clears her throat quietly.

"You understand how this works? The light will shine brightest at the point of passage, that is where you must aim for. It will be deep, and it will not be easy, but it is a_ possible_ journey and you _must_ remember that. Don't panic. If you panic, you'll tire yourself out, and you'll need all the energy you can muster... And one more thing: You are your own first priority, do you understand? You take care of yourself and trust that the rest of us will do the same. No foolish heroics."

She regards the paler women sternly as they nod in unison. Giving her own curt nod, she moves to the edge of the boat.

Snow swallows nervously and turns to the Sheriff, taking a hold of her hands and pulling her close. Sinking in to the blonde's firm embrace, she wraps her own arms around the younger woman's waist and speaks shakily into her hair.

"It's going to be okay, Emma, it's going to be okay. We'll be fine, I promise. I... Just swim okay? Just swim and I'll be right by you, and it'll all be okay. It'll all be fine. I promise. I promise. You'll be fine. Please."

She sniffs as the blonde chuckles lightly in her ear and squeezes her firmly before stepping away.

"Sounds like it's yourself you need to be giving that little pep talk to."

Mary Margaret shakes her head, and reaches out to stroke at the Sheriff's arm.

"I love you, okay."

"... Yeah. I love you too."

The schoolteacher nods, before pulling herself up onto the side of the boat and balancing hesitantly over the water. Regina looks away, uncomfortable at the display put on by the younger women, but she glances up curiously when slim fingers brush at her side. Regarding Emma levelly, she allows herself a small smile to mimic the blonde's.

"See you down there, yeah?"

"Indeed you will, dear."

"You guys want to do this on three?"

The brunette rolls her eyes, but shrugs in agreement, stepping gracefully up onto the side of the boat to stand beside the others. She watches out the corner of her eye as Snow takes a hold of the Sheriff's hand, and wonders momentarily if Emma will offer her the other, but she is saved the anguish of deciding whether or not to accept such a gesture when the blonde does no such thing.

"E-everybody ready?"

Nods from either side.

"Okay... One.. Two... Three!"

They close their eyes tightly and for each there is a moment's pure fright before adrenalin kicks in and they take the plunge, and as they jump fearfully into the cruel ice of the sea, the Queen takes in a gasp of surprise as a pale hand finds hers after all and they plummet into the murky darkness.


	16. Chapter 16

**A/N: **_Apologies that this fic has been neglected for so long. I really wanted to get over the angst that has been a little hard and heavy in my 'Wet' fic before attempting what I have planned with this one, as I didn't want two story lines of a more 'tense' nature running simultaneously... Predominantly for fear of my head exploding... I really hope it was worth the wait, and this fic will be updated more frequently from now on. Promise ;) Please comment!_

* * *

At first, all that enters the brunette's mind is how horrifically _cold_ the water which smothers her is. She attempts to keep her eyes open, but the salted current carries with it a hateful sting and she squeezes her lashes protectively shut while curious bubbles escape her scarlet lips in a chaotic stream.

_Oh dear god, what was I thinking?_

She pulls herself together sternly, giving a firm tug on the slender fingers entwined with her own as she begins her descent; pushing herself through the water so that she swims towards the seabed.

Despite having her eyes closed, she is crucially aware of a frantic torrent to her right as the blonde thrashes and kicks fretfully, and she pulls on the younger woman's hand once more, pointedly, before letting go and swimming in earnest.

She is unable to discern whether the other two follow behind her, but she is forced to simply trust that both younger women will have the good sense- or, at the very least, the _survival instinct_- to make for the curious depths of the ocean. Such faith lasts only so long, however, and as her lungs begin to burn with a hateful lack of oxygen, she has a hard time coaxing her mind into staying blank; the irritable organ seemingly hellbent on flashing her images of her son's face should she be required to inform him of the blonde's death at sea.

_Oh, stop with such nonsense! She and her idiot mother are right behind you. _

_You hope..._

_Enough!_

A little way above the fretting Queen, Emma snarls irritably, swallowing a mouthful of seawater as she struggles to free her hand from Snow's white-knuckled grip. The raven-headed woman mistakes her daughter's thrashing for distress and tightens her hold on the blonde's frail fingers possessively until the latter gives her a hard shove and wrenches herself free. Somewhere within the back of her mind Emma feels a pang of guilt at the action, but now is not the time for niceties. With the schoolteacher hindering her good arm, she doesn't think either of them will stand much of a chance. Reaching blindly for any one of Snow's flailing limbs, she captures her wrist clumsily and gives it a meaningful pull before wrestling with the sodden mass of her skirts in an attempt to turn herself around so that she can swim downwards.

Slitting her eyes open against the sting of the waves, the Sheriff kicks out towards the blinding green glow that shimmers from what seems like _impossibly_ far away. She berates herself angrily for spluttering on the dank water so soon, her lungs uncomfortably tight and her blood thrumming nervously in her ears. Catching a glimpse of a paper pale hand darting in and out of her peripheral vision as Snow swims along side her, she tries to speed up her own amateur strokes in an attempt to catch up with the brunette, fearful that the darker woman will slip from sight.

As she feels her chest begin to ache and bright spots begin sparkling dizzyingly behind closed lids, Regina chances a quick peek through thick lashes in the desperate hope that she will be graced with a sign of land. That she will see anything at all! _Anything _but the endless cloying water and that sickening green glow.

Mercifully, her wish is granted.

The eery green light which has beckoned them thus far appears slightly diffracted a little ahead of her, and she senses rather than sees the cause of this to be the elusive dome which shrouds the Kingdom. Their proximity to salvation gives her hope, and she begins to kick out with greater purpose, closing her eyes and bracing herself as she reaches the source of the light.

* * *

There is little dignity in the way she stumbles on her feet, but the brunette holds a mild sense of pride as to the fact she has managed to stay standing at all. She peers about herself cautiously, dark eyes flickering from one pale being to the next. The crowd that studies her is silent- strangely morose- as a thousand eyes crawl over her soaked form hungrily. Thinning her lips to form a determined line, she pulls herself up to her full height and offers those closest to her a glare of confidence as freshets of salted water steam from her blackened locks down her aristocratically high cheekbones to glisten wetly at her sternum.

She turns back towards the transparent shield with a frown, searching the murky shadows for any sign of her curious companions, but with the light being emitted from the side of the dome in which she resides, the ocean is cast into darkness. She tells herself that time only _seems_ to be ticking by so terribly slowly because she wants it to do the reverse, but as she counts the steady patter of droplets falling from her hair onto her flesh, she becomes increasingly concerned by the stillness around her.

Glancing from one armed guard to another, as the towering mermen stand with their backs to her- tridents raised- guarding the city, she swallows with an uncharacteristic nervousness.

_They should be here by now. They're taking too long... They should _be_ here by now!_

Just as these hateful thoughts threaten to block out all sanity entirely, the curious surface of the dome breaks open to release a torrent of salted waves on which the younger two women are deposited unceremoniously to form a heap of tangled limbs on the ground.

The silence is broken by the blonde's fitful coughing as she struggles to free herself from beneath the limp form of her mother. Green eyes wide and red, she shakes the schoolteacher frantically, her voice obscenely loud over the stillness of the crowd as she croaks the paler woman's name over and over.

"Mary Margaret! _Mary Margaret!_ Come on, damn it! Get up! _Please!_"

More coughing as Snow rolls onto her side and weakly expels a mouthful of water, before the schoolteacher finds the blonde's crouched form with panicked hands and pulls her close. The Sheriff lets out a sharp hiss as Mary Margaret claws unintentionally at her recently injured hip, before slowly raising her head to observe her surroundings with a comically dropped jaw.

"Holy shit..."

Regina begins to move to join the others when she stills as a revered sigh echoes amongst their eery bystanders. The crowd parts in sickening unison as, from the depths of the pale, sinewy bodies, a low laugh echoes jarringly.

"Well, well, well... What do we have _here,_ then?"

The woman that stalks into view is large; reminiscent of the beauties depicted by Ruben in her generous stature. Extravagant silver adorns her thick limbs lovingly, specked with amethysts and rubies. She wears a black dress cut sinfully low over her impressive bosom and little else. Dusky purple hoods her dark eyes heavily from within a powdery canvas of foundation, blusher and painfully red lipstick.

"Regina, dear... Is that you?"

The brunette offers the squat woman a forced smile, bowing her head although the act doesn't come to her naturally.

"You look positively _dreadful_."

Thick fingers find her sodden locks fussily- the woman's skin smelling ever so faintly of seaweed- as the Sea Queen brushes aside damp tresses. Offering a simpering smile of her own, she turns to regard the younger women who remain clustered together uncertainly sporting twin sets of fearful green; one set wide, one set narrowed untrustingly.

"And what is_ this_?"

The blonde opens her mouth to growl that she is a 'who' not a 'what' but bites her tongue with begrudged obedience as she receives a piercing flash of warning from the Mayor's dark eyes. Scowling irritably, she merely glares down at her feet as Regina takes the lead and moves to stand beside her.

"This is-"

"-Snow White..."

Plump lips curl up to form a sneer as the Sea Queen's glittering eyes fall upon the school teacher. The latter nods curtly, assuming her own falsely confident stance as she returns Ursula's gaze.

"Your Majesty..."

Snow's voice is quiet, purposefully respectful and the large woman laughs richly as though the Fair Queen has just shared a particularly amusing joke. Dark eyes falling upon the blonde, she ceases with her self-indulgent display of mirth and smiles wickedly.

"Which would make _you_...?"

"This is Snow's daughter... Emma."

"Emma..."

The Sheriff regards the heavy-set woman before her cooly, resisting the urge to shrink back as a jewel encrusted hand skims teasingly up the pale flesh of her arm, but unable to help the goosebumps that arise at this unwelcome touch.

"And what, pray tell... Are you three doing _trespassing_ within my realm!?"

A hardness finds the Sea Queen's voice, and the brunette blinks in confusion as a flurry of silver obscures her vision from both sides and slick bodies glide past her with liquid speed. By the time she manages to grasp what's going on, the other two stand rigidly still with crude blades held warningly to pale throats.

"What evil befell your mother, child? What scum have you brought to walk upon my shores?"

Ursula hisses dangerously as she moves in on the brunette, finding Regina's hands with her own, but the gesture is anything but soothing.

"What_ business_ do you have with Snow White?"

And just like that, the Mayor is all of a sudden crucially aware that her next few words- any actions she takes in the next few seconds- may well be of fatal consequence. Her worries appear founded; Ursula spares Snow's stature no concern, and as such, they now find themselves in the presence of a woman who would bare no qualms in slaughtering the fairer two where they stand. Mind racing fretfully, she glances at the schoolteacher just once before adopting her own sneer to mirror the Sea Queen's.

"_Business_ is a rather grandiose way of putting it. For too long now the cunning little snake has worked to best me, but rest assured, my mother will not have fallen in vain... I plan on dealing her my own form of retribution... But to do so... I am in need of your assistance..."

She carries on hurriedly as both Snow and Emma threaten to rain a storm of incredulity upon her, clinging on to the hope that neither woman is as mind-numbingly _stupid_ as she fears.

"But that is a topic of discussion between royalty... I beg for your ear on the matter, Your Majesty."

Ursula regards her expressionlessly, and for a second, the brunette fears that her act lacks substance, but then a talon-like nail points towards the castle that waits patiently in the background and the men that flank Snow proceed to move her along without a word. Glaring pointedly at the blonde whose teeth are bared in animalistic fury, Regina raises her voice and injects her patent blend of silky confidence swiftly.

"She is not to be touched, her fate lies with me... Is that understood?"

She cringes inwardly at the delicate tinge of nervousness that cloaks her final words, but Ursula seems not to notice and merely laughs, fussing with her overly teased hair primly as she assures the brunette that her men will take heed of her wishes. It is for this same reason, however, that she imagines Emma negates to vocalize her anger; the subtle inflection to her tone may have been lost on the Sea Queen, but not on the blonde.

Just as she can read the Sheriff with curious ease, Emma seems to know her eerily well.

"And what of the girl? Why keep _her_?"

Regina watches with a careful lack of expression as Ursula slithers over to the blonde, her hooded eyes glittering as her mouth forms a slow smile. Large hands cup the younger woman's face with cruel tenderness as the Sea Queen's tongue darts out to wet her lips as she takes in the fading marks that grace pale features. Catching the flash of repulsion that swims within fearful green eyes and the terrible hunger that find's Ursula's own dark orbs, the brunette speaks up harshly, her tone stern as she strives to keep her hands from shaking.

"What better way to crush the Fair Queen than to take ownership of her daughter?"

"Ownership?"

The question within the Sea Witch's rich tone is mirrored in Emma's eyes as the blonde blinks at her stupidly, her face a picture of incomprehension. Chancing a purposeful glance at the Sheriff, Regina takes a step closer so that she stands pointedly between the blonde and the older woman, her eyes hard as they find Ursula's.

"Indeed. For what greater indignity than for a princess to become a simple pawn within the game of her enemy's fancies?"

Her tone takes on a curious lilt as she finishes her question and a look of comprehension graces the Sea Queen's features as she adopts a coy smirk.

"The girl is your _prize_... What fun!"

Better late than never, the meaning behind the ambiguous words being shared between the two older woman finally dawns on the Sheriff and she opens her mouth to express her incredulity at the situation as she shakes her head adamantly.

"Hey, wait, what the _hell?!_ You-"

"-Silence."

Regina spares her not even a glance but merely holds up her palm with an irritable sniff. This response garners yet more perplexed anger from the blonde and when Emma gives in to her stubbornness rather than continuing to heed the brunette's warnings- pushing the Queen's hand away furiously- Regina acts on instinct alone.

She later muses such spite may well have saved the younger woman's sorry life.

As Ursula's brow furrows upon taking in the ludicrous insubordination displayed by the blonde, the Mayor wills an unseen tremor of power towards the Sheriff. As she had told Emma before setting off, her brand of magic is useless against the merfolk, but when used against the blonde, it works just fine.

Just fine indeed.

Her eyes barely flicker as the younger woman lets out a pained cry and falls to her knees at her side, her hand shooting to her injured ribs as the brunette immediately ceases the constricting force she had trained towards the Sheriff. Glancing down at Emma with carefully hidden concern, she looks away swiftly as shocked, watering eyes find her own. Adopting an air of disdain, she places a hand possessively on the younger woman's shoulder to keep her down where she kneels, her tone harsh and cold.

"You will do as you're told, or you will suffer the consequences."

Regarding the grinning Sea Queen cooly, she allows her fingers to disappear surreptitiously beneath the sodden locks that tumble over the blonde's skinny shoulders. She dares to move them only slightly- gently stroking the soft skin at the nape of the Sheriff's neck- hoping such subtlety will leave the action undetected. If Emma mistakes the gesture as one of ill-will, she supposes it will just have to be so, but she notes a very slight change to the younger woman's posture, her shoulders dropping from their self-protective hunch just a little bit beneath the Queen's discreet attempt of comfort.

_I'm on _your_ side remember. Now shut that unruly mouth of yours before you make me have to do something like that again... Please._

"As you can see... The girl is having a little trouble with being broken in..."

"Growing pains... Always the way unfortunately, dear... Still... She is a curious young thing; more reminiscent of fighting stock than one bred within that family of imbeciles by looks alone. She will learn, though, dear, with a firm hand I have no doubt. They always do."

Regina offers the Sea Queen a debauched smirk as she rests her fingers lightly- warningly- back on Emma's shoulder; willing the younger woman to just take her share- however unjust- of humiliation and remain silent.

_All we need is for her to buy this little charade for the time it takes me to make our request... If believing Snow to be disgraced and you to be my... my trophy... Is what it takes, then please just play along. If you force me to hurt you, I am hurting Henry also... So please... _Please_ just keep quiet and let me handle this. _

Holding her breath as the tension sits tangibly between them, the brunette studies the older woman intently as Ursula runs a pensive finger over her lips as she smirks down at the blonde who keeps her head dutifully bowed. Finally, the Sea Queen speaks.

"Very well, it would seem you and I have matters to discuss. You will accompany me to the castle as a guest. They will see to your girl."

She points vaguely in the direction of a couple of silent guards who move forwards upon her request and flank the Sheriff. Offering Emma a fearful glance, the brunette looks back up at the Sea Witch, but the older woman is already making her way grandly through the eery crowd. Addressing the men sternly, she speaks quietly, but with great warning.

"The girl is mine, and I want her kept in exactly the same condition as I found her..."

They regard her without word- without expression- and she bites her lip as Emma peeks up at her from beneath her hair with terrified eyes. Jumping as the deep melody of Ursula's voice pulls her from her thoughts, she looks up quickly and pulls herself together, moving to follow the older woman up the path.

"Oh, Regina, worry not, they're simply to take her to the servant's quarters; we can hardly have _her_ join us for dinner now, can we? Now come. I have so many questions I'm just _dying_ to ask you..."


	17. Chapter 17

**A/N: **_Enjoy, and please comment :)_

* * *

They make their way up the stone steps to the castle in silence, Regina following the Sea Queen with careful grace as she tries to collect her thoughts and ease her mind. She is relieved that her claims in regards to Snow and the blonde have been received without question, but she is shaken by the fact that both women have been taken away to wait in whatever foreign and mysterious place they now reside. She hides a frown as she inwardly accepts that she had been hoping the schoolteacher may have been able to help her out in this charade; refusing to gift Snow with the compliment of being exceptionally smart, but fair enough to grant that the younger woman possesses her own fair share of cunning.

She can't help but see an upside to Emma's absence, however, a little relieved not to have to watch the younger woman like a hawk lest she take it upon herself to make any number of snide remarks sure to raise suspicion.

Glancing up at Ursula as the Sea Witch leads them on into a grand hall she shivers. She had been correct in her description to the Sheriff of the merpeople's human guise differing from their own; the large woman that walks before her possessing all the limbs and proportions of a mortal being, but the distasteful sway and glimmer of an eel.

"Do come along, darling, I don't have all day."

The brunette quickens her pace a little, falling in step beside the Witch and clenching her teeth as thick, jewel encrusted fingers brush against her waist. She raises an eyebrow as they pass a large table at which a number of high-backed chairs sit like shadowed sentinels in the corner, imagining such a place would play the perfect stage for whatever conversation she and Ursula are destined to have.

As it is, they continue on, until the Sea Queen brings them to a halt outside a curiously ornate set of doors.

"After you."

Regina complies silently, slipping through the doors gracefully with the Witch's breath hot on her neck. The room she finds herself in is laced with shadows; its walls a dusky pink web of coral and the lights dim as they play over plush velvets and gauze. The space is reminiscent of a boudoir and the Mayor wrinkles her nose ever so slightly in distaste. She glances over to a large bed in the corner with mild concern, but the Sea Queen leads her over to a round dining table at which two ghastly violet chairs wait patiently.

As soon as they take their seats, the doors glide back open and the brunette's eyes widen as an extravagant selection of food is brought in on silver platters. It is not this small feast that causes her disquiet, however, but those who bring it. Six in all- four women, two men- with their heads bowed and their disconcertingly pale limbs littered with white lines from what she supposes were beatings long ago. She is able to study such cruelty due to the fact that not one of the servants that place their platters on the table wears a scrap of clothing. Blinking, she looks away in distaste, studying her hands with a frown which deepens when their guests do not take their leave once the food has been lain out, but rather move to kneel silently behind their Queen.

"Everything alright, sweetheart?"

She forces herself to look up and nods with a falsely confident smile, tossing her hair back with an air of arrogance. The Sea Witch returns her smile and points a purple-painted talon at the selection before them.

"Would you like to help yourself, or would you rather it was seen to for you?"

As she says these words, one of the women that kneel behind her rises and moves over to the table. She slips easily into the Sea Queen's lap- the latter playing a hand through long black hair as though her companion were a pet rather than a woman- and plucks up a vine of strange crimson fruit, twisting in the Witch's arms to feed her in a way that causes the brunette to blush deeply.

"I can manage myself."

Ursula laughs throatily, continuing to paw at the girl in her lap who keeps her head bows as she goes about her duty.

"How very like your mother you are, dear... My poor, dear Cora. My condolences for your loss, my darling."

"Thank you."

"I heard word that her passing was due to a broken heart... I do hope you weren't expecting anyone to_ believe_ such nonsense?"

"I-"

"-Because it all seems rather... Fishy... If you will pardon my small pun. I suppose it has something to do with that little bitch and her whelp?"

"... It... It-"

"-Because if that were so... Then I must ask you, sweetheart, why keep Snow alive at all? Why _wait_ to seek your revenge on the insolent little harlot?"

"I... Well that is why I have come to you, Your Majesty. Death is not_ good_ enough for the Fair Queen. No... Not after all that she has done to me. Not a _simple_ death anyway. I want her to _suffer_, and I want her_ family_ to suffer the way mine has. I want her idiot prince to watch as I take her heart and crush it to nothing but dust. I want... I want the girl to watch as I rip his out also... I want _revenge_."

Regina swallows silently, a little shaken by just how easily the words fall from her lips, but she refuses to dwell on such matters. The Sea Queen's own lips are drawn back to form a hungry smirk and she doesn't dare stop to muse on her chaotic emotions in case she cracks. Adopting her own malicious smile, she leans back in her chair, running a finger over her full lips as though deep in thought.

"Due to the curse, her Charming remains back in the world from where I have come from to find her. She and the child were taken from my world by a Wraith, despite neither one being marked. Such an easy escape from my wrath could not be allowed. I wish to bring them back and preform the public execution I have been denied for too long now."

"Oh, you will find none_ here_ that don't believe you deserve it, my precious one. Snow White must pay for the things she has done, as must that imbecile of a prince. I suppose the girl is simply a bonus, and she will serve her purpose in time for you also."

"...Oh?"

"Well, of course! Oh, my dear, I imagine you will have quite your share of _fun_ with that little wretch, but do not fool yourself that you will not tire of her in time. It shows bad taste to cling on to something dirtied and used, my dear, and when the time comes to throw out the trash, those hateful patrons of the land you now rule over will watch as their Fair Queen's young one comes to a similar end as her mother. Do not underestimate the statement such a fate will make. She can serve you in more ways than one, Regina."

At a loss of words, the brunette simply continues to smile, although it feels as though the action is all teeth to her, and she worries her muscles may remain frozen in such a ghastly way. She averts her eyes as the Sea Queen lets out a low laugh as her dark eyes glitter merrily- sure that Ursula is imagining just some of the ways in which Emma could 'serve' her- and resists the urge to clear her throat as the Witch's large hand begins to paw at the girl in her lap obscenely.

Catching the Mayor's discomfort, Ursula chuckles, pushing the girl off of her roughly and leaning forward to study the brunette.

"I would never have pegged you as the shy sort, my dear, indeed, it is not how you are spoken of at all!"

"Shy? No, I don't suppose I am shy... I am simply not used to such a... Display of flesh in a setting such as this."

"Ah, a mere cultural difference then. It is the way in which all of my servants are to present themselves, for what good are they to me, apart from to see to my needs. In this land, it is only those of notable chaste that are permitted to show it off through their attire. Disgrace is a much simpler thing beneath these waters, my dear. It isn't some abstract term applied hazily to another. It is a physical state."

"I see."

"I find it works most... pleasingly."

Nodding slowly, Regina clears her throat as she strives to change the subject.

"Am I to take your advice on how to deal with Em- the girl as a sign that you are willing to help me?"

"I will do what I can... But it won't be easy. It is possible, but preparations must be made."

"...Thank you."

"Hmm... Don't thank me. Thank your mother. I will see to this for her, you understand?"

"Yes."

"And we have yet to discuss the matter of payment."

"...Payment?"

"My dear, you did not believe a woman from the land could come to me beneath these waters and expect my aid for free? Whether you are the queen or not- Cora's daughter or not- it isn't something for nothing, sweetheart."

"What do you desire from me?"

"I will have to think on that... There are few things you have that could be of interest to me."

"... But there is _something_, then?"

"As I said... I must think on it... But I grow tired now, and wish to rest. I will have you shown to your bedchambers."

At her words, one of the young men that kneel dutifully behind the Sea Queen rises and pads slowly for the door, holding it open in a silent request the brunette take her leave. Regina frowns, turning to Ursula who busies herself gorging on the remains of the food on the table while the bare slaves behind her watch with dull, stupid eyes.

"Where are the others?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Snow White? Emma? Where are they?"

"Snow White will be in the tower, you will see it if head out of the castle, it is the tallest of the buildings. She will remain under armed guard until you take your leave, but they will allow you entrance; you are my honored guest."

"Thank you... And Emma?"

"Down below the kitchen in the servant's quarters."

"The servant's quarters?"

"My dear, the girl is yours, make no mistake, but down here, we share our-"

"She is not to be _shared_! I made that clear!"

"Calm down. I merely meant she is expected to behave in a way befitting to her situation."

"... I... I'd like to go to bed."

Ursula nods, shooing the young male that waits at the door.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Your Majesty."

"Sweet dreams, dear."

Regina turns and follows the servant out. Watching him with troubled eyes, she clears her throat before speaking with purposeful disdain.

"Hurry up, I am weary."

He complies wordlessly, almost trotting as he leads her up to a set of dark wooden doors and bows down low. She sniffs disinterestedly and shoos him away with her hand much like the Sea Witch had done. Watching him leave and slipping into the large bedroom, she rests her back against the door and sighs, closing her eyes and massaging her temples.

"Damn... Damn, damn,_ damn_!"

Footsteps outside the door catch her attention, and on instinct she pulls the heavy wood ajar and peers through, making out a couple of young women hurrying through the hall.

"You. Stop."

They comply instantly, turning to regard her with that hateful silence shown by their peers. Adopting a careful tone of arrogance, Regina takes a step towards them and stands with her hands on her hips.

"Show me how to get to the kitchens."


	18. Chapter 18

**A/N: **_Told you I'd update more often ;) And remember, comments are the best catalyst for more writing!_

_Also, thank you to Arwen17evenstar for inspiration for the dialogue at the end of this chapter._

* * *

Her silent entourage leaves her by a set of large double doors she presumes lead to the kitchen. They abandon her without word, their heads bent low and their long hair offering their breasts a kind dignity denied further south. She sighs, watching them go with sickly distaste before pushing open heavy maple doors and slipping inside.

The kitchen is a large, cavernous room, which stands momentarily empty. A large tank beside a collection of glistening ovens holds a series of sluggishly swimming sea creatures and she can't help but find the thought to be perverse given the location of the Kingdom. Dark eyes scanning her surroundings curiously, she jumps as the silence is shattered by a piercing shriek; so hatefully familiar to the one heard back in Snow's castle, but for one subtle difference. She is almost _sure_ that this noise is not one of pain, which leaves her wondering for what other purpose one would cry out in such a way.

Searching hastily for a sign as to where the entrance to the servant's quarters might be, she follows the sound of the commotion below, unable to make out any actual words, but by now sure as to who the harsh cries belong to. A deafening crash has her hurrying into the pantry, and she swallows as she notes a narrow set of stairs from which pale light glimmers and occasional banging sounds eerily through the silence that cloaks her between shelves of pickled curiosities.

Pulling herself up to her full height, she transcends the stairs swiftly, adopting a stern expression and hiding her trembling hands within the folds of her tailored coat. She has to duck slightly on order to enter the large cavern that plays host to the sounds of struggle, and she blinks in confusion as she takes in the scene being played out within, before raising her voice and barking angrily.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

The silence that follows is deathly, and she watches with wide eyes as the tangled mess of dirty limbs that had been scrapping ruthlessly on the filthy floor stills and one by one, idiot faces rise to address her.

"Get off of her!"

At her furious glare, the pale creatures that pin the blonde to the floor exchange terrified glances before rising quickly and hurrying off down a curious corridor at the end of the room- their spectators following suit- leaving just the flickering light of the crude chandelier and silence in their wake.

The brunette follows their retreat with eyes wide with shock, before turning to the Sheriff and clearing her throat awkwardly. Emma lies with her hands held over her head protectively and her knees pulled up into her chest. What little remains of her clothes lies strewn in tatters across the floor and Regina looks away nervously as she notes the ripped shreds of the blonde's underwear pulled halfway down pale thighs. Speaking softly she moves to retrieve torn fabric, but it is soon clear that not one of the items she plucks from the floor remains fit for use.

"Are you alright?"

"Go away."

The Sheriff's response is teary and bitter and the brunette sighs as she stares uncomfortably at the floor.

"Just tell me if you're hurt or not. I can fix it."

"No."

"... But... You're crying...?"

"Go away!"

"If you're hurt you need to-"

"I'm not _hurt!_ For fuck's sake! I'm _fine!_"

Despite the awkwardness in doing so, the Mayor turns to the blonde as she catches a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye. Emma pulls herself up so that she sits with her knees up in front of her chest and her feet carefully together, protecting her dignity. Her eyes are dark with anger, but apart from a few dirty scuff marks littering her pale limbs, she seems none the worse for wear. Regarding her with a frown, Regina works at the buttons to her coat slowly.

"Emma, I-"

"-Please. Just go away..."

"I'm sorry! Look! This wasn't part of the plan! Hell, _none_ of this is part of a plan! I... This is what I _warned_ you about... I didn't-"

"-_No! _You warned me about some dumb bitch who signed her life away to that fucked up woman! You warned me to play nice! You warned me to... to... This is... It's _fucked up!_ I..."

The blonde shakes her head, calming herself down and muttering irritably beneath her breath. Struggling to catch Emma's words, the brunette frowns, pulling off her coat.

"You're embarrassed?"

"Of course I am! I'm f-fucking _naked!_"

The words come out in a sob, but a bout of incredulous laughter follows, and Regina isn't sure if she should be worried about such turbulent behavior or not. Deciding not to dwell on the psyche of a woman she finds hard to understand at the best of times, she merely holds out her coat with an air of weariness.

Emma looks at the proffered garment as though confused, before standing up and plucking it from slender fingers. It is cut for riding, and so does little to hide her modesty, but she pulls up the tattered remains of her lingerie carefully, and buttons the wide lapels closed across her chest. Regina watches all this from out of the corner of her eye, not consciously meaning to observe the Sheriff in such a state of undress, but simply deciding it pointless to look away once such things have been glimpsed.

_"The girl is your _prize!_... What fun!"_

The blonde pulls her long hair out from the back of the coat with shaking hands, careful with raising the left one, but she shows no further sign of pain. She looks down at herself along with the Mayor and lets out a small laugh that is just a little too high to be mistaken for her normal tone. The brunette allows a small smirk in response, concluding Emma to look very odd indeed, which is saying something given the eclectic attire she has seen worn by the blonde.

"Very fetching."

She supposes there exists a curious amount of truth to her goading; the Sheriff looking a little like a character in a fantasy book. Emma offers her a bemused shrug, digging her hands into the pockets of the coat in a way that causes the brunette a small amount of mental pain as she bites back the urge to scold the younger woman for pulling the expensive material out of shape. Sighing, she looks down towards a fallen statue that lies fractured in the corner. She supposes this must have been the cause of the crash heard from above.

"You're sure you're alright?"

"Yeah... I guess... Just..."

"...Embarrassed."

"Yeah."

"Don't be. It isn't your fault. It's... It's the way things work here, and for that I'm sorry. I didn't know. I spoke with Ursula in her chambers... She _will_ help us, I think, but she may just play a few more dirty games first... I will do what I can, but right now... I'm afraid she holds all the cards..."

"Yeah... I know... You uh... You were pretty smart with that whole speech you made earlier..."

"...Thank you. I apologize for... uh..."

"No need. I get it... I mean, don't get me wrong, I was a bit freaked out with that whole _ownership_ business- hah!- but... I get it..."

"I didn't really want to hurt you back there, but you-"

"- I opened my mouth and a bunch of shit came out. It's a familiar story..."

Emma grins sheepishly and the Mayor nods, offering a small smirk.

"You must grow weary of the ending, surely?"

"You _would_ think so, wouldn't you."

"Impossible."

"Huh? What is?"

"You. You are impossible."

"Just one of my many talents..."

Regina rolls her eyes, shaking her head with a small scoff of laughter.

"If you say so, dear..."

Emma grins, before looking warily towards the darkened corridor and biting her lip.

"I thought she'd be down here..."

"Who?"

"My... My mom. I thought... I don't know where she-"

"- In the tower. She's in the tower... She isn't Mary Margaret here, dear, she's Snow White, and as such she will be seen as a royal captive. Ursula has her under guard-"

"-Oh man, she-"

"- Will be fine! It is not the most pleasurable of positions, I sympathize, but it serves to keep her safe."

"... You're sure?"

"As sure as I can be about anything in this place..."

"... I_ hate_ not understanding anything in this world. I feel like... I feel like I can't take care of _anything_."

"Well... So long as you take care of _yourself_, dear. Your mother and I... We may not see eye to eye, but I will tell you this much... I am a force to be reckoned with, of that I assure you... She bested me many a time... She is not so weak as you may think her to be."

"... I don't think she's weak, I just..."

"You're not used to being the one that needs looking after?"

"No... I fucking_ hate_ it!"

"One would never have guessed..."

"Oh, shut _up_, Your Majesty!"

Regina laughs as her eyes widen in surprise before giving the younger woman a stern glance.

"You need to learn to respect royalty, Miss Swan- no don't give me that look... It is those who don't learn from history that are doomed to repeat it. Learn from what happened today... I gave your mother my word that I wouldn't let harm befall you if I could help it... But you have to play your part too, you understand?... I have come to expect the minimum level of civility from yourself, and while this vexes me like you wouldn't _believe_, I would highly suggest you practice your manners on _myself_ as they may well play quite a key part in your near future."

"Fine."

The blonde drops into an extravagant bow and the Mayor rolls her eyes, biting back a smirk at how ridiculous the younger woman looks doing so in her current attire. The thought brings her rudely back to their current situation, and her dark eyes become slightly more wary as smooths her hair carefully back into perfect place.

"I... I'm unsure what Ursula would make of me coming down here to pay you a visit. As you have probably clued in on... There is a certain, uh, code of attire- or lack of it- to be respected by her servants..."

"I'm not _her _servant though! I thought I was your prize or whatever?"

"Well, yes... But... You need to understand something, dear. While the thought of you playing underling-"

"-Bitch."

"... Well, however you want to word it... While the thought amuses me a great deal, this isn't a game. If this were any other situation- if it wasn't _you,_ I mean- then I would have no qualms with the Sea Queen's ways. She could strip my spoil naked and I would relish the humiliation of it, so long as there were no wandering hands playing with what was mine."

"I'm touched."

"... Don't think too deeply on it, dear. I merely find the thought of the woman who gave birth to my son wandering around with the port from which he came through on display for the world to see to be in bad taste."

"Charming!"

"Just the truth, Sheriff."

"Fine."

"So long as we understand one another, dear."

"... Is that true though?"

"Is what true?"

"That you would... Like it wouldn't _bother_ you if one of your servants or whatever was stripped and played with and stuff? Like... That's just _ok_ in this world?"

"... No. It wouldn't _bother_ me per se... But... Not all of us are as crass as Ursula. It wouldn't interest me either."

"Fair enough."

"You look troubled."

"It's just kind of... I don't know."

"Evil?"

"Well, yeah."

"Are you forgetting to whom you are speaking?"

"The 'Evil Queen', sure, whatever. Are you forgetting what I told you?"

"To what are you referring?"

"... I didn't particularly find you _evil_ before, Regina. After what you did for me back in the castle, I think of you as such even _less _so now."

"Yes, well, it is what it is."

"So... I... I have to stay like this? You can't... You can't find me some clothes or something?"

"... Dear... I would suggest you lose the coat _too_ should the Queen come down here... She'll know who it belongs to."

"You'll get into trouble?"

"... We may _all_ get into trouble."

"So I... I really have to be... You know, _naked_, now?"

"I... Look, I don't _know_ what happens now. They tried to take your clothes off you before, they may again. Either way, I would hide that coat, and hide it_ well _should Ursula come down here."

"... I don't want to stay down here on my own..."

Green eyes regard the brunette balefully and the Mayor sighs as she notes an ill-hidden note of fear in the younger woman's voice. She searches for something to say to break the uncomfortable silence but comes up empty as she watches the Sheriff cast her eyes down miserably to her feet. Extending her hand and brushing the luxurious fabric that covers the blonde's arm gently, she smiles in a way she hopes is encouraging when Emma glances up at her and speaks softly.

"I can imagine. But it shouldn't be for long, okay? Just please... Listen to me about the coat, and try to behave yourself, yes? I'll try to sort things out as quickly as possible... Just..."

"Trust you."

"Yes."

Casting her eyes up to the ceiling and letting out a low sigh or frustration, Emma shakes out her curls and fiddles with the buttons to the coat irritably. Wrestling it loose, she pulls it off and hands it back to the Mayor who keeps her eyes trained on the younger woman's face with a curious frown.

"Take it."

"Miss Swan?"

"You want me to behave in a way that will keep us all out of trouble, and I'll have a hard enough time not fucking _that _up. If not having the coat will make it easier, then I don't want it. If she comes down and finds it... I don't want you and Mary Margaret to get into trouble. Real trouble."

The brunette takes the coat silently, pulling it back on over her delicate corset. The Sheriff's long hair works in her favor and provides her with at least a little modesty, but she has a hard time keeping her eyes from traveling the defined lines of muscle that form the blonde's really rather pleasing silhouette. Aware of the awkwardness that hangs between them, Emma adopts a mock tone of seriousness as she regards the brunette with a burlesque frown.

"But that's _all _you're getting. The pants are mine!"

"Thank heavens for that!"

Regina smirks, inwardly berating herself for just how much she enjoys the blonde's crude sarcasm while trying not to inspect the flimsy material to which the younger woman refers too enthusiastically.

"I should go..."

"...Okay..."

The brunette turns to leave but stops when she reaches the stairs, glancing back at the Sheriff.

"Stay beneath the chandelier."

"How come?"

"I may be mistaken, but I would guess the darkness that prevails in most of the rooms I have encountered so far to be telling. Perhaps they don't do well under too much light?... I could be wrong, but it is a theory none the less."

"...Thanks... I'll put it to the test."

"... Alright... Emma, I don't think they'll harm you, you know. I think-"

"-It's okay. I'm sure it'll be fine."

The fearful hitch to the younger woman's tone suggests she believes otherwise, but she gives the Mayor a bright smile and carries on lightly.

"I just hope they don't keep me awake_ talking_ all night."

She winks, and moves to sit against the wall beneath the flickering chandelier while the brunette shakes her head and offers her an amused smirk.

"I think you may be alright with that one."

"You think?"

"I do... Well... Goodnight, Miss Swan."

"Night, Regina."

* * *

"Something wrong, dear?"

The brunette jumps as she enters the kitchen to find the Sea Queen waiting with her ample backside resting against a counter. A nervous looking servant works feverishly to wash up a selection of pans in the sink while casting the odd terrified glance at the Witch. Regina pulls herself together, clearing her throat.

"I just... I..."

"You were checking on the girl?"

"Well, I-"

"-A curious thing to be doing if she is who you say she is..."

"Who I say... How do you mean?"

"Why bother yourself with her well-being? She is nothing to you. Nothing but a toy. A pet. You wouldn't take the time to go check on a lamb to see if it was happy with the turn of events that led it to be tethered out in the barn."

"... She is not a lamb."

"I see. Why, I would almost-"

"She is _my_ lamb. _My_ prize. I understand that there are some cultural differences as you say, but I do not wish for her to be on display the way she is... She is mine. I detest the thought of having a lapdog tainted by mongrels."

"My, my... A little possessive, don't you think?"

The Mayor hurries to clear her mistake, but the gleeful look on the Sea Witch's face has her relaxing slightly. It is a look of amusement, rather than that of disbelief. Sniffing arrogantly, the brunette tosses back her hair, speaking with a new confidence.

"Why wouldn't I be when I have come into possession of such a treat. The Fair Queen's daughter. Snow White's misguided young whelp. She has a lot to learn, and I have a much to teach her in the ways of servitude... But it is I whom she is to call mistress, and it is I alone who should reap the pleasures of owning the girl."

"You make her sound almost _desirable_, dear."

Ursula muses with a smirk, too busy relishing the subject of conversation to notice the way her words cause the brunette to recoil slightly as beautiful, dark eyes glitter warily.

"... She is mine."

Throwing her head back and laughing richly, the Sea Witch gives a burlesque performance of wiping an imaginary tear from her eye before adopting an authoritative tone and regarding the Mayor with a piercing stare that has the latter wishing to look mercifully away from those all-seeing eyes.

"So you keep saying. Be that as it may, you are _my_ guest, in _my_ land, in _my_ home. The girl is a servant, and she will be treated as such. I will not have her paraded about as though she were_ special_ in front of the scum that resides down below these floorboards. She may be yours, sweetheart, but in this land, she_ is_ a mongrel. She is not mine to play with, nor is she my guest. Nor is she my captive, as her royal mother is. She is _nothing_. Now come. It is high time you got some rest... I do not take kindly to visitors scouring the halls of my palace, guest or not."

"... Yes, Your Majesty, I assure you, I meant no disrespect."

"... Of course not, dear one. Of course not. I will have someone fetch you before breakfast in the morning."


	19. Chapter 19

**A/N: **_I really should have ended this chapter 'and that's all we have time for right now'. Sorry for the short post, I promise more action to come in the next once things slow down a bit._

* * *

Breakfast is an unusual affair. Regina sits rigidly at the long, narrow table she had spotted when she had first entered the castle, staring pensively down at the strange, half-eaten fruit that rests upon the large shell-plate before her. The Sea Queen does not accompany her; Ursula busy elsewhere 'receiving company' according to the low murmur of the young merman who stands hesitantly a few feet away and watches her eat.

Growing tired of her wary audience, she pushes her plate away dismissively, her dark eyes flashing with authority as she casts her gaze upon the guards that wait at the doors which lead from the room.

She knows that they will let her pass without word, but she knows nothing about how keen an eye they have been instructed to survey her with.

Her guess is a very keen eye indeed.

And so, as she stands to stalk towards the doors, she finds that her instinctual direction of the kitchens leaves her second-guessing herself. She is anxious to find the Sheriff- not only because of the precarious situation in which she'd last left her, but also due to the fact that, no matter how irksome she finds her, Emma is still a damn sight more favorable company than the ominous creatures that lurk the halls- but she imagines news of a trip down to the caverns beneath the kitchen will quickly reach unwanted ears.

She is confused as to how things have ended up the way they have. Her insistence that the blonde was to belong to her alone... To play her prize... Had led her to believe Emma would be left within her company. Ursula's continued adamancy that the Sheriff should be treated in the way she currently finds herself and kept down below the floors on which the Queen herself walks perplexes her. Normally such a curious breach to her will would have her questioning- arguing- such matters, but she already appreciates the need to tread carefully when dealing with the Sea Witch, and she can't quite shake the feeling that there is some darker purpose to Ursula's apparent whim.

_"She is a mongrel... She is nothing."_

Regina finds there to be a touch of falseness to those words, but her brow furrows as she struggles to imagine what purpose there could be to the Witch in lying to her. Shaking such uneasy thoughts away, she moves swiftly through the doors and proceeds instead towards the large archway that acts as the entrance to the castle.

Standing for a moment at the top of the magnificent marble steps that lead down into a coral courtyard, she regards the ominous tower a little way into the distance apprehensively before beginning her descent.

She is nervous as to the possible repercussions of checking on Emma.

She will see to her mother instead.

* * *

Snow seemingly ignores the brunette when the latter first enters the dimly lit room at the top of the disconcertingly thin tower; her eyes closed and her mouth drawn. A series of weathered stalactites create a barrier between herself and the Fair Queen, and try as she might, the Mayor's sharp eyes fail to make out any visible entry point on Snow's side.

It causes her great unease to reside within a world about which she understands so little.

"They say only the guilty sleep..."

"Regina?"

Green eyes flutter open, and the younger woman sits up wearily to regard the Queen through the natural set of bars with a frown.

"What are you doing here? Come to gloat?"

"Gloat? About what? You may be behind bars, dear, but it still doesn't hold a candle to the misfortune I myself desire upon you. As it is, this little 'punishment' is none of my doing... And I believe you should be aware of this by now..."

"None of your doing... And yet isn't it curious that you walk freely..."

"She was a friend of my mother's, and that is the _only_ reason you are still breathing presently-"

Snow opens her mouth to argue, but the Mayor steps towards the bars swiftly and throws her a dark look which silences the words dancing upon rose-red lips.

"- And don't forget it. She granted me her ear, but she owes me nothing. I am not behind bars, but I am in no easier position than yourself. But stop with such talk now. This is not my land, and I know not who may be listening in."

The brunette's words are little more than a whisper. The raven-headed woman regards her with a thin-lipped frown, but she nods to show her understanding. Brow creasing further, her eyes flicker to the shadows that shroud the Queen before speaking fearfully.

"Why isn't Emma with you?"

Hard spanish eyes regard her sternly and when Regina speaks once more, she does so at her normal volume with pointed coldness.

"You are Snow White- the Fair Queen- and yet you reside behind bars. Any spawn of yours is hardly going to be accompanying me around the castle."

There is a peculiar bitterness to her tone for which she inwardly scolds herself, reminding herself that this is Emma she's speaking of, and that not having the insolent young woman mouthing off at her every five minutes should be a blessing in itself.

Her words have the desired effect on Snow, however, who- although glaring at her furiously- takes the hint that she should cease discussing matters in the same way they had had the luxury of doing back on land. Adopting a louder tone, she continues with carefully measured anger.

"You will not speak of her in such a way! Where is my daughter?"

"Where she belongs-"

The brunette pauses momentarily, her expression unreadable, before she continues with a minute nod of her head to suggest that she is taking care of things.

-the servant's quarters of the castle..."

The paler woman's mouth drops open- horrified- and the Queen muses that at this_ particular_ moment, Mary Margaret may as well never have existed. This is purely Snow- Snow as she once was- and for all the humbleness displayed by her post-curse counterpart, her current expression reads only of regal pride, and incredulity that her child- her princess- should find herself in such a position.

Regina can't help but wonder how those irritatingly familiar green eyes would widen should she mention the blonde's current lack of attire.

_Forced lack of attire._

A small part of her- and she supposes that this could be called her '_post_-post-curse' part... Her 'pre-saving Emma' part... wants to do just that.

It is a spiteful thought, and she is surprised that she recognizes it as such.

_It has nothing to do with Emma. It was just obvious and so you picked up on it... Not like you, this is true, but it has nothing to do with the girl. Nothing to do with the Sheriff._

Instead, she gives a second small nod as her gaze softens considerably and she risks mouthing silently

'Ursula is going to help us. It's going to be ok.'

She just hopes she's right.

For Henry's sake.

* * *

Ursula stands with her hands on her hips and a smile stretching out her purple-painted lips to reveal slightly discolored teeth. Her heavily hooded eyes glitter as she studies the young woman before her thoughtfully.

She had slipped down here after seeing her guests to the ballroom in order to check on the residents that inhabit the doomed tank at the end of the shadowed cavern. Upon entering the larger cave at the entrance beneath the kitchen, she had failed to spot the blonde rested against the far wall, due to her hurry to reach her destination. It is only now, as she stands with her needs sated- _that_ need sated- that she's clocked Emma slumped in an uneasy sleep beneath the chandelier.

She ignores the irritating itch the light brings to her slick flesh as her smile widens into a sly smirk. The blonde sleeps awkwardly, and her long hair tumbles over one shoulder exposing her slim frame completely.

No. _Almost_ completely.

Ursula frowns at the narrow swatch of fabric that covers the younger woman's sex pensively. The blonde's pale flesh is littered with green and purple flowers where bruises are beginning to heal towards yellow. Her ribs appear to have suffered the brunt of whatever punishment earned her such marks, and the Sea Witch sighs as she feels just a hint of jealousy towards her old friend's arrogant young brat.

"Oh, but don't we always want to play with the toys treasured by other's so much _more_ than those belonging to ourselves..."


	20. Chapter 20

**A/N:** _Finally! Time to update! __I suppose I should give this chapter a bit of a warning. Personally, I'm a huge fan of horror/ gore, but for those of you who are not, this chapter may be a little bloody. I really wanted to include this scene, however, due to personal taste and I liked the idea, but I will say now that this is a one off and that I don't plan- unless it proves to be something you all actually want to see more of- to write any more for this particular fic in the same vein. I will happily take one-shot requests from those of you who do prefer this style of writing. Please enjoy, and please comment!_

* * *

_"Oh, but don't we always want to play with the toys treasured by others so much more than those belonging to ourselves..."_

Soft words but the Sea Queen's sultry tone rouses the blonde and Ursula adopts a small smile as the younger woman's eyelashes flutter and her brow creases. Waiting patiently for cool green- sea green- eyes to blink open and come hazily into focus, her smile widens as she bids the Fair Queen's whelp good morning.

"Clever little thing, aren't you?"

"Huh?"

Emma frowns in confusion, stretching in an attempt to appease the sore twinge gnawing away at her muscles due to her peculiar sleeping position. The act has her quickly realizing she remains all but naked and she lets out a choked gasp as she quickly curls up with her knees hugged in close to her chest and her feet covering the scant flash of her underwear. To have to do so frustrates her, for she wishes to stand and look down on the squat woman before her; such submissive behavior not sitting well with her in the slightest.

"You stayed beneath the light, sweetheart, I was merely commending you on your cunning..."

"Oh... Well... I-"

"-Pity."

The blonde frowns, opening her mouth as if to inquire just why such a thing should be seen negatively by the Sea Witch, but she stops herself before the words fall from her tongue; mindful of the brunette's harsh warnings and wise to the fact that once she begins to speak, she has a hard time quelling her words. Instead, she simply raises an eyebrow, waiting uncomfortably for Ursula to go on.

"What happened there?"

The Queen points a stubby finger towards one of the water-soiled dressings adorning the blonde's skinny knee. Hesitating for just a moment, Emma regards the salt-encrusted cotton plaster neutrally, plucking at its frayed edge.

"I fell."

"I see... Of your own accord, or...?"

Brow furrowing, the Sheriff glances up at the Sea Witch as she tries to decipher just what will constitute as the 'right' answer.

"... Yes... I tripped..."

"How clumsy of you."

"Uh... I guess..."

The blonde's frown deepens, not sure if she should feel offended or not. What she _does_ feel is a growing sense of disquiet, and she reminds herself, yet again, to keep her silence.

"And who is responsible for dressing your injuries?"

"Uh..."

The simplest response would, of course, be that she herself had seen to the various cuts and grazes littering her pale flesh, but the curious glint in the older woman's eye has her squriming in her own skin as she tries to figure out whether Ursula asks her a trick question or whether the loathsome woman just forever acts in such a way.

"... My mother."

"Oh?... Curious."

Unable to help herself, Emma breaks the silence which follows the Sea Queen's words with her own question, alarm bells sounding loudly in her head as she frets she has made some glaringly obvious mistake in dubbing Mary Margaret as her nurse.

"...H-how come?"

"The dressings to your knees are of little interest apart from that they mar such delectable young flesh-"

The blonde shudders visibly, causing the Witch's eyes to sparkle with malicious humor

"-But the bandage to your elbow consists of an intricate weave often used during the darker days of my dear, beloved Cora's reign... Oh yes, I remember it very well from the poor, unfortunate souls who had the ill-fortune to attempt fleeing the land by sea... "

"Well... My mother comes from the same land, she must've learnt it while-"

"- It is a weave used exclusively by the Royal Guard... The_ rightful_ Royal Guard. The fabric is crossed in such a way that if one were to enchant it first, the binding would act to protect the injured from infection of any kind... Not often a style seen by those who do not possess magic, as I'm sure you understand..."

"... Well... I don't know..."

Emma shrugs awkwardly, coaching her features into an expression of what she hopes is disinterest. Mimicking this gesture in a way that seems almost teasing, The Sea Queen extends her hand, eyes flashing darkly when the younger woman simply regards this offering warily.

"Has no one ever informed you of proper etiquette when in the presence of one's betters? Get up, girl; you would rise for your Queen and you will rise for me."

Weighing up her options miserably, a deep blush alights the blonde's cheeks before she gets stiffly to her feet, shaking her head so as to try and tease her hair into providing her at least a little modesty. Watching the younger woman's futile attempt at covering herself up with a smirk, Ursula allows her hooded gaze to wander pale limbs without pretense. Crossing her arms awkwardly, the Sheriff makes a small noise of disgust as long nails find the soft flesh of her waist.

"Come, sweetness, I wish to show you something."

Resisting the urge to pull away, the Sheriff allows herself to be led away from the light, her heart beating ever faster as they journey down the dank hallway into the shadows. She catches glimpses of what she first mistakes for glimmers of light, but soon recognizes to be the pale flash of unclad bodies cowering into the caverns that line the main walkway. Shivering as the temperature drops considerably, she turns to the Sea Queen and addresses her nervously.

"Where are we going?"

Ursula offers her a slow smile, but no further information, simply proceeding to fidget with the long hair tickling the fingers she keeps clasped at the blonde's bare waist. Bowing her head as surreptitiously as possible, Emma attempts to swallow her nerves and seek out that distant, hard place within herself she has had little need to access of late.

After what feels to be an extortionately long time, Ursula leads her through into a large cavern at the end of the hallway and the Sheriff lets out a noise of audible disquiet as her eyes widen upon spying what lines the far wall.

"There are few who are fortunate enough to tour the lands, darling, and it would be such a shame not to allow you the best of our sights... Just don't you go telling your Mistress I've spoiled you so."

"My... M-my..."

But the blonde finds the words drying up on her tongue as she continues to stare at the large, murky tank before her. Its walls are a thick, algae infested glass, and she imagines its size is similar to that of her entire bedroom back in Storybrooke. Swimming sluggishly through the dank waters within is an animal she has only ever seen depicted on the page; most zoos lacking the space to house such a beast.

"Is that... Is that what I think it is?"

"Well, my dear, that depends _entirely_ on what you think it to be... I believe on land they call it a Carcharodon Carcharias; a 'Great White'."

"Holy shit..."

Ursula laughs huskily at the younger woman's whispered response, watching the naked fear alighting the blonde's fine features with gleeful interest.

"Is it... Is it like a p-pet?"

"No, honey, down here we see little purpose to owning those of another species in such a way as you land-walkers do. No, this is entertainment."

"...Entertainment?"

"Indeed."

"I don't understand..."

"Observe."

Stalking over to the corner, the Witch plucks something from against the wall in a flash of silver. Holding the rusted sword out to the Sheriff, she smirks at the way the younger woman recoils instantly and raises her hands in partially formed fists.

_Feisty little thing you've lucked in on, Regina, dear._

"Take it."

"...Why?"

"Well, for one, because your superior has requested that you do so, and that should be reason enough."

Biting the insides of her cheeks to refrain from letting Ursula in on just what she thinks about _that, _Emma reaches tentatively for the implement held out to her by the Queen, her brow furrowed. Pointing to a set of iron steps lining the tank to the left, the Witch beckons the Sheriff towards them.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, if they hold my weight, they will hold your skinny frame."

"I... uh..."

Looking to the Sea Queen for further explanation, the blonde weighs the sword in her hands warily, eyes troubled as she glances from the shark cruising slowly in the tank- much too small for such a predator- and the Witch herself. She is unsure which one of the two to approach with a greater caution.

"Mount the steps and break the waters with the tip of the sword, she'll come up to you... Wait for the belly to be exposed and take the blade to flesh."

"...What? Why!?"

"Oh, my dear, such horror in your eyes and no reason for it! She is of no use, no value... Why not use her for entertainment?... A girl in your position, of all people, should understand such a notion..."

"I..."

Pale hand resting on the iron banister, Emma shakes her head, her long hair tumbling over her chest. Looking down at the sword in her hand she holds it out to the chuckling Witch with a frown.

"...I can't do that..."

"You can, and you will. Now go on, get on up those steps with you."

Panicked green flickering back to the top of the steps, the Sheriff shakes her head with greater vigor, mouth drawn unhappily.

"No, please, I really can't!"

"Go on, girl."

Cruel fingers dig into the soft flesh of her upper arm and guide her roughly towards the stairs, causing the blonde to stumble slightly as she strives to resist the Queen's surprising strength.

Rolling her eyes and changing tactic, Ursula slips past the younger woman and pulls her up with several hard yanks of her hand which send white pain coursing sharply through freshly healed ribs. The steps shake alarmingly and Emma lets out an uninhibited yelp as she imagines she hears the metallic tinker of a screw falling to the natural stone floor.

"No, no, don't-"

"-Hush child!"

Once she stands at the top of the steps on the small platform beside the Witch, the blonde squeezes her eyes shut; momentarily dizzy as she glimpses steel gray cruising below murky green. Forcing them back open at the Queen's insistence, she loses all sense of her well practiced emotional guard as she pleads with the older woman childishly, holding out the sword at arm's length.

"I can't, please, take it! Take it!"

The Queen rounds on the blonde, causing the younger woman to shy away in self defense and let out a low cry as she finds herself backed up against the cold glass of the tank. Brandishing the sword, the Sheriff's eyes are wide as she regards the Witch fretfully.

"I'm not doing it! It's cruel... What purpose will it serve?!"

"Purpose? Why, it serves as a form of entertainment, of course."

"Why? How is taking a sword to an animal that has no option of escape at all entertaining?!"

"...Do you know much of the species? Of sharks in general, sweetheart?"

"...No..."

"A Shark is a huntress of the purest of forms, dear. She is a predator of faultless design, and once she is taken by her bloodlust, she is incapable of forming even the simplest of thoughts... A magnificent display... Observe."

Plucking the sword from the blonde's shaking hands, the Sea Queen finds the small of the younger woman's back and pushes her up against the tank roughly; Emma crying out as her hipbones make sharp contact with the glass edge as she believes, for a second, that the Witch means to send her plummeting over the top into the waters below. This noise of distress garners two results; the Sheriff scolds herself inwardly, hating the way she is incapable of controlling such signs of weakness due to the electric fear coursing through her blood. Meanwhile, Ursula wets her lips in a most obscene fashion, eyes glittering darkly as she observes the terrified trembling of beautifully lissome limbs and the expression of raw panic gracing the blonde's pale features.

_Such a pretty face- such a _young_ face- when absent of that obstinate scowl._

"I trust that you will have the good manners to watch a display being put on for your benefit..."

The Sheriff nods slowly, all too aware of the Witch's hand resting hatefully at the chilled skin of her lower back, eyes widening as she realizes that the very tips of her long curls float lazily on the murky water's surface. Pulling her hair hastily back with shaking fingers she watches as the Sea Queen positions the sword over the shark tank.

Using the tip of the blade, Ursula creates a small whirlpool of lethargic bubbles, the broken surface of the water glimmering sickeningly. The beast's reaction is slow- its innate prowess dulled by its pointless existence within the glass-walled prison. As she swims towards the disrupted surface, the shark's eyes roll back to expose idiot whites and the blonde groans quietly. Waiting for the beast to crest the tank's surface, the Sea Queen lowers the sword in a flash of silver; her action precise and her aim true.

The shark's reaction is immediate as the waters turn a dull red; her jaw stretching wide as her slick body rocks and thrashes in a frenzy, turning and rolling within the suddenly wild waves of the tank as she strives to devour the blood and viscera spilling out about her.

The horror lasts for several minutes, and by the time the remains of the beast sink lethargically to the depths of the reddened, stagnant tank, the Sheriff swallows repeatedly as she struggles to keep herself from retching. Her flesh is clammy and she squeezes her eyes shut; her lashes wet and her complexion ashen.

Ursula watches the younger woman with growing fascination, dark eyes roaming over slender limbs before coming to rest on the delicate flutter of the blonde's ribcage as she strives to regulate her harsh breaths. Stroking a finger gently down the softly defined line of the Sheriff's spine, she adopts a small smirk as Emma no longer pulls away from such a touch, but simply lets out a low whimper.

"Magnificent, no?"

* * *

Regina jumps at the quiet knock that beats on the other side of her bedroom door. Rising from the bed where she had been sitting, trying to gather her thoughts and options with little joy, she stalks towards the heavy wood cautiously. Pulling herself up to her full height, she adopts a neutral tone of what she hopes is authority.

"Come in."


	21. Chapter 21

**A/N: **_Just a quick one, I'm afraid, but hope you enjoy nonetheless, and more action to come soon. Please comment :)_

* * *

"Come in."

When silence greets her request, the brunette frowns, stalking closer towards the door and repeating herself more forcefully.

"Come in... Who's there?"

Gathering her chaotic nerves briskly, she pulls at the heavy door, letting out a choked cry as she is almost knocked aside by flailing limbs. Rolling her eyes as she imagines the blonde had been pressed up against the door- presumably in an attempt to discern whether she had found the right room- she fusses with her hair primly, turning to make her way over to sit on the bed.

"_Really_, Miss Swan..."

The younger woman offers no response, and it is only once she glances back up at the Sheriff that the Queen properly takes in the image she portrays. Her tone losing its disdainful irritability, she regards the pale woman with a furrowed brow before moving from the bed to pad cautiously back towards her.

"Emma?"

She hadn't forgotten about the blonde's state of dress- or lack of it- but she is still uncomfortable when presented with slender, unclad limbs once again. Nevertheless, she scans the younger woman's pale frame critically before she considers herself content that the Sheriff has sustained no further damage then that inflicted by her mother.

This begs the question, however, of why Emma trembles the way she does.

"What happened? What's wrong?"

Taking in the way the blonde simply shakes her head, her eyes wide and breath hitched, Regina shakes her gently, becoming increasingly concerned at the way the usually outspoken young woman fails to answer her. Hell, to even properly acknowledge her.

"Miss Swan?"

"I... She... It ate itself, Regina... It fucking ate itself..."

Harsh breaths become ever more sporadic, and the brunette recognises the Sheriff's state for what it is and ushers her quickly over to the bed before the blonde proceeds to have a full blown panic attack right in the middle of her bedroom.

"Sit, and put your head between your legs."

Manipulating pale limbs as she speaks to do just that, Regina frowns nervously as she keeps the younger woman pushed gently down.

"What on earth are you on about, dear."

"I can't... I couldn't... She wanted me to, but-"

"-She wanted you to do what? Emma? What did she want you to do?!"

Despite her previous warning to stay down, the brunette pulls at the blonde's shoulder firmly so as to assess pale, distraught features. Eyes widening when the latter simply lets out a racked sob, she acts on impulse, pulling the younger woman into her and stroking long curls warily as she shushes her in way similar to how she used to do Henry.

"Stop this now, you're alright."

Her words are tinged with a slight inflection as her mind races with hateful images of just what could have happened to get the Sheriff into the state she's in. Waiting for Emma's loathsome trembling to die down, Regina speaks to her softly, tightening her embrace subconsciously as she becomes aware of the clammy chill emanating from the blonde.

_She can't keep walking around like this, she'll catch her death in cold._

"Tell me what happened."

Dark eyes widen as the Sheriff proceeds to retell of her ordeal with the shark. The blonde seems to falter slightly towards the end- her tone becoming a little more reminiscent of its usual self- and the brunette wonders if she now feels that her tale isn't worth the fuss she's making out.

She decides such stupidity would be just like Emma.

"It's alright, dear, you're alright... In a way I am glad that you witnessed such cruelty, however horrific it must have been... My warnings were not just empty threats, Miss Swan... A valuable lesson, if not a pleasant one... Rather the shark than yourself."

"... Thank you."

It is an odd response, but neither woman is lacking in understanding of just what the blonde refers to. Shrugging, and moving briskly away from the Sheriff now that she seems to have pulled herself together somewhat, the brunette surveys her critically; not at all in favour of the way pale skin remains dappled with gooseflesh and soft lips are tinged lightly blue. Pulling at the throw that lines the base of the large bed, she drapes it over the younger woman's bare shoulders in a businesslike fashion, despite admonishing her softly.

"You really shouldn't be up here, dear."

Green eyes regard her balefully and she sighs, brow creasing as she strives towards something more to say.

"If I had known it would so quickly get to this point...That is would get to this point at all..."

"It was our only option... You said so yourself."

"I did... But-"

"- Henry needs us. I don't regret anything... Not if you said it was the only way."

"... That's... Trusting of you, Sheriff..."

"I suppose so... Fortunately I happen to know I'm right to do so."

"Oh? What makes you so sure?"

"Are you _really_ going to keep trying to bait me with questions like that? You've done more for me and Mary Margaret over here than most people have ever done for me my whole life... Couple that with the fact you can't stand me and I'd say you've proven yourself quite a valuable ally..."

"Not just the evil Queen."

"I already told you what I think of that..."

"Quite..."

Sniffing arrogantly as she casts her gaze down to the fabric of her sleeve, Regina almost allows herself to relax a little before a sharp beat raps at the door. Glancing at the younger woman with a sudden naked fear, she imagines her own apprehension is topped only by the terror written clearly across the blonde's face.

"Hide. Now!"

Pulling the throw from the Sheriff hurriedly as she whispers, she watches with troubled eyes as Emma disappears into the depths of her closet in a pale flash of bare flesh; stumbling slightly in her haste.

"Coming."

Her voice is rich, and she prays she sounds just as always, despite the harsh clench of her jaw and the cold nervousness working at her hatefully. Stalking towards the door, she barely touches the handle before the heavy wood is pulled aside and the Sea Queen smiles at her viciously; all teeth.


	22. Chapter 22

**A/N: **_Apologies for yet another shorter chapter. This is the final one before things get kicked up a notch, but due to having very little time at the moment, I wanted to upload what I could. Hopefully it's still interesting and you enjoy :) _

_(This is also a bit of a cheated response to a friend's request to write a chapter in any of my fics in which Emma 'comes out of the closet')_

* * *

_Her voice is rich, and she prays she sounds just as always, despite the harsh clench of her jaw and the cold nervousness working at her hatefully. Stalking towards the door, she barely touches the handle before the heavy wood is pulled aside and the Sea Queen smiles at her viciously; all teeth._

"Good morning, dear."

Stepping reluctantly aside as Ursula pushes past her into the impressive bedroom, Regina offers a nervous glance towards closed closet doors before padding back to the bed and fussing with the discarded throw as though simply straightening the item out.

"Good morning."

"I hear you paid a little visit this morning?"

Heart racing cruelly in her chest, the brunette tosses back glossy locks arrogantly and feigns ignorance as she strives to deduce just what the hateful woman is trying to get out of her.

"Oh?"

"My guards paid witness to you stopping by the tower earlier... They say you sought out Snow White and engaged in discussion with the disgraced queen..."

"I did..."

"Then it _is_ true? Why, whatever would send you seeking counsel from _that_ no good harlot?"

The Sea Queen laughs, shaking her head at the very thought. Paying Regina's hesitancy to answer no mind, she takes a seat, uninvited, on plush covers and looks up into wary coals with a smirk.

"But alas, I am getting away from myself, as one has a tendency to do when so often surrounded by those undeserving of their company... Your peculiar desire to console young Snow is none of my current concern..."

Yellowing teeth flash in a sharklike grin and the brunette knows better than to ask after the Witch's true reason for joining her as she fears she already knows the answer. Raising an eyebrow in a polite bid that Ursula continue, she keeps her silence as she takes a small step backwards; subconsciously moving to stand between the bed and the closet.

"...No, not my current concern at all... For the Fair Queen holds little interest to me, you see. Oh, that you should have arrived alongside her with the young woman acting of her own free will is peculiar of _course_, but while she remains incarcerated I find the whole matter to be rather dull... Her pup, however... Ada?-"

"-Emma..."

"Emma... That's right... _Emma_..."

Regina keeps her expression carefully neutral as Ursula rolls the younger woman's name on her tongue in a way that is inexplicably obscene. Clearing her throat, she runs her hand through her hair primly, her breath catching sharply as the Sea Queen rises suddenly with liquid speed and bares down on her hatefully; hot breath tickling the velvet flesh at her cheeks.

"Where's the girl?"

"... Your Majesty?"

"Emma. Where is she?"

"... I was under the impression you had instructed her to stay within the servant's quarters..."

"Oh, I did, my dear... I most certainly _did_... And yet... I am under no illusion that the fact that she is nowhere to be found comes as any sort of surprise to you."

"... The woman is a snake. That Emma should be... Missing... Is merely one of the many negative facets to her character... Good behaviour is unfortunately rather lacking in-"

"-Oh, of that I have no _doubt_, my love... But I must say... Your tolerance of the matter is_ most_ surprising..._ Almost_ as surprising as your _own_ display of despicable manners..."

"... I beg your pardon?"

"Try_ again_, dearest! Where is the girl?"

"As I _said_, I don't know-"

"-Oh, such_ lies_!"

"Please, I don't-"

"-_Hush!_"

Her breathing heavy, Regina does as she's told, regarding the Witch with well-masked fear as the older woman glares at her with glittering eyes. Taking a step towards the brunette, the Sea Queen closes the distance between them so that she stands flush with the Mayor. When she speaks, her tone is toxic.

"I will give you one more chance to answer me...Where is the girl?"

"... The closet."

The brunette's voice is little more than a whisper, her complexion pale. She fears for both the blonde and herself with this admission, but she is familiar with too many stories of sticky ends reached by those who oppose the seemingly all-knowing Queen to continue with her fruitless gamble that Ursula may leave her in peace.

"See... That wasn't so hard now?"

"... I apologize."

Smirking at the cold bite the brunette is unable to keep from her words, Ursula turns to painted white doors with a smile.

"Emma, dear, the game's up, sweetest. Could you be a darling and come out here?"

Tensing nervously, the brunette keeps dark eyes trained on the closet doors, but they remain silently closed.

"_Now_, precious, I don't have all day."

Sickly sweet words become suddenly icy as Ursula barks this new warning. Eyes flickering to the older woman as she proceeds to raise her hand ominously, the Mayor speaks up swiftly, a slight tremble in her voice, but otherwise commanding very believable authority.

"I suggest you do as you're told, Miss Swan. Desist with this nonsense!"

Stalking past the Witch as the latter makes to open the closet herself, Regina raises a hand and forces the doors open with a deafening crash of splintering wood, yanking the blonde out into the room by the wrist.

She does so brutally, but simultaneously succeeds in pulling Emma close to her side and just out of reach of the Witch's long-nailed hands.

Growling as the younger woman opens her mouth in an instinctual snarl, the brunette does the first thing that comes to mind and pushes her roughly onto her knees, hoping the shock of pain sure to accompany such a forceful landing will remind the Sheriff of her place in their current little ruse.

The sharp yelp from beside her has her surmising her point has been made.

"Well would you look at that..."

Painted lips smirk as hooded eyes feast upon pale flesh before flickering up to prey on the brunette.

"And just what do you have to say to explain-"

"-Nothing. I have nothing to say to explain what she's doing here... Nothing I wish to say _out loud_, anyway."

The words fall from her tongue with frightening ease, and Regina finds herself acting on impulse rather than cunning. The thought terrifies her, but she knows enough of the Sea Queen's debauched ways to imagine later that doing so may have also saved her.

_For if she had thought on it... She would never have done such a thing._

Grabbing a fistful of curls, she pulls the Sheriff back up onto her feet, ignoring Emma's choked cry; a sure mix of rage and pain. Pulling the younger woman flush, she allows her hand to rest possessively- sordidly- at the skinny peak of the blonde's hip, while her other works to pull back golden tresses to expose the white column of the Sheriff's throat vulnerably. When she speaks, her tone is curiously husky, and she deduces both Ursula and Emma understand the emotion behind her actions as the Sea Queen licks her lips and the blonde shivers.

"... I expressed before that the whelp is mine... As such... If I wish to use her to relieve my boredom while you work so kindly to aid us... I fail to see why I should be degraded into explaining myself."

Tugging just a little harder on the tangled curls cascading from her clenched fist as the younger woman strives to turn in her grasp to regard her, she allows the hand which rests on Emma's hip to slide round to encircle the Sheriff's slim waist fully; clutching the blonde's bare frame pointedly against her own.

"The girl needs to learn how to behave, I realize... But I trust you can understand why I would be unwilling to perform such... Lessons... Before an audience..."

Struggling to keep from dropping her gaze from Ursula's as the older woman studies her with feverish intensity, she realizes absently that she holds her breath as she awaits whatever fate her quick thinking may bring her.

Awaits _them_.

She feels a curious sense of responsibility towards the blonde.

"... But of course, my darling... But of course..."

Breathing a sigh of relief, the brunette keeps the Sheriff firmly in place as she watches the Sea Queen retreat towards the door with a despicably lustful grin; absently aware of the way lean muscle ripples beneath her fingers as Emma squirms uncomfortably in her grasp.

"I will leave you to your prize, Regina..."

The perverted lilt to the older woman's tone has the Queen shuddering as she has no trouble imagining just what sort of activities the Witch may be imaging her to engage in with the younger woman clutched possessively to her side.

"You may bring her to dinner... I imagine that will be quite the_ treat_..."

Winking as she slips eel-like through the door, whether the Sea Queen notices the twin expressions of unease her parting words garner is hard to say.

The brunette is willing to bet such a thing hasn't escaped the despicable woman's keen eye.

"... Damn."


	23. Chapter 23

**A/N: **_This chapter was a total bitch to write... It just did not want to cooperate with my fingers and the keyboard. That said, a massive thanks to SultrySweet for helping out! Hope you enjoy, and please comment! :)_

* * *

_"Damn"_

The Queen's low response to Ursula's dinner invitation tapers off into a pained hiss as she is pushed rudely to the side, almost stumbling to her knees. Glaring furiously at the younger woman responsible for such rough behavior, she finds her anger dissipates only slightly when Emma collides forcefully with the cupboard door in her haste to get away; the blonde staggering slightly before leaning against the wall, her eyes wide and disconcertingly fear-blown.

"Why the fuck did you have to go and do that!?"

"Miss Swan! If I-"

"-Why did you tell her where I was?!"

Battling between irritation at the Sheriff's blatant stupidity and discomfort as the younger woman's current stance has her bare frame sordidly displayed- harsh breaths causing firm flesh to heave- Regina barks at her to calm down. Pointing to the bed, she commands the blonde to take a seat, but she simply rolls her eyes when this request goes- predictably- ignored. Perching on plush covers herself, she looks up at the Sheriff in frustration, inwardly thanking her heart for having reclaimed its regular rhythm.

"...Did you hurt yourself just now?"

"No..."

"Then why are you standing like that?"

"... This is just how I fucking stand, alright?!"

Rolling her eyes at the blonde's childish petulance, Regina shrugs, deciding that if Emma isn't going to admit that her collision with the cupboard door is why she now cradles her elbow tellingly then she herself isn't going to lose any sleep over it.

"... I had to tell her... And you _know_ that, so desist glaring at me!"

"How do you know!? She could have just gone away... She could have just... I don't... I don't want to go to dinner... Not as your... You know..."

Sighing, Regina nods pensively, her lips forming a hard line.

"I've noticed."

"Look...Can't you just say that I don't, uh, 'deserve' to come down or something?...Please, Regina?"

Shaking her head slowly, the brunette adopts a stern tone, trying to stamp out the curious sense of empathy washing over her without invitation.

"You need to come down... When was the last time you ate something?..."

"I'm fine..."

The blonde's response is uncertain, and she realizes with sardonic humor that this may not entirely be the case. She supposes the continual nervous adrenaline of the past couple of days has numbed her to her more basic needs; hunger never before being something she has allowed to slip her attention. On the contrary, she has frequently found herself the begrudging butt of Mary Margaret's jokes due to the schoolteacher no longer having any need for her left-overs tupperware since inviting the younger woman to move in with her.

"Well, that may be, but it won't be the case for long... I could count your ribs should I desire to."

The Sheriff's responding scowl to such thinly veiled, surprising concern is short-lived, replaced swiftly by a deep blush as she crosses her arms primly over her chest, her expression understandably irritable. Sighing, Regina plucks the recently discarded throw from the bed and holds it out to the blonde, who gives in to her stubborn nature after a brief moment's hesitation and walks stiffly towards the bed.

"Thank you..."

Shrugging, the Queen regards the younger woman pensively as Emma perches uncertainly on the very edge of the bed and pulls the itchy material tightly to her slim frame. Muttering beneath her breath, the blonde jumps when Regina lets out a wry chuckle.

"...Can't believe the fucking Mayor's seen me naked..."

"Well, I'm not overly_ thrilled_ by the situation either, dear."

"Yeah... Well..."

Smirking as the Sheriff struggles to find a suitably snide retort, the Mayor rises from the bed and moves to sit before a large vanity mirror; a little uncomfortable with being sat so close to the younger woman as they fall into an uneasy silence. Regarding Emma though the glass, she frowns, wondering whether she should mention the absurd behavior displayed by the Sea Witch's own subordinates at the last meal shared with the hateful woman, or whether such things would be better left for the blonde to discover of her own accord.

"Emma..."

The Sheriff glances up to meet her eyes through the glass, the cautious note to the older woman's tone catching both of them by surprise.

"Uhuh?"

"... When we go down there... I need you to promise you'll beha-"

"-Behave myself, yeah, _alright already_! I know!"

"...No matter what."

"Haven't I already proved I can be trusted?!"

"... It's not about_ trust_, dear... At least, not about my trust in you. You need to understand that the only reason I told Ursula where you were is because the ramifications should she have found out of her own accord- and she _would_ have found out- could have been- _would_ have been- a much less desirable fate. Just as you must understand that, no matter what transpires over dinner, I mean you no... No _harm_."

"... I know that. It's what I keep_ saying_-"

"-Yes, but such emotions are subject to change once placed in a less controlled situation..."

"...Ok, What is it you're not telling me, Regina?"

"... How do you mean?"

"I mean... Quit with the vague statements and tell me whatever it is you know about this goddamned dinner arrangement!"

"I don't know anything... One must simply never presume-"

"Oh,_ fuck_ one! Come _on_, Regina... "

"Miss Swan-"

"-_Please_... I... If I know what to expect, at least I can kind of get my head around it..."

"... I don't know what to tell you, Emma..."

"Bullshit..."

"I really don't! All I can say is that... Whatever happens down there- however uncomfortable Ursula decides to make things- you need to keep your mind firmly locked on the fact that both you and I are playing a part; a scene. We _both_ want to go home, as does your mother. If anything... Happens... That you don't like, you just have to grin and bear it, you understand? You lose it down there at me in_ any_ way at all... She'll know something's not right."

I know that... "

"I just need to be certain."

"Fine... I meant it by the way..."

"... I beg your pardon?"

"About knowing you're not out to screw me over- Not till we get _home_ at least- Ha!... I just... I'm sitting here fucking _naked_, okay? Or as good as... I'm cold, I'm hungry, I'm tired, my nerves are shot to shit, I want my mom, I want my kid, I want my _bed_... I know you think I'm a brat, but that's pretty much all there is to say... I'm_ miserable_, but for once in the past however many months, it's not because of _you_... And I welcome that! We might not always see eye to eye or whatever, but I wish you'd stop reminding me you're on my side for now... I don't just_ know_ it, I'm fucking_ counting_ on it! But... Please... I know you think all _sorts_ of things about my, uh, 'private life'- as you've made so _delightfully_ clear- but the whole... 'Bitch' thing?_ Not_ something that I'm skilled at, nor wish to be... I mean... I know you have no _actual_ interest in me _obviously._.. Not in that way... But... It's still kind of..."

"It is what it is, Emma."

The brunette sniffs, not willing to continue this particular strain of conversation, especially as the Sheriff seems hellbent on remaining as awkward with her verbal approach as ever.

_Well, she's right though, isn't she? You have no interest in her... Why should you find the topic to be so uncomfortable?_

_... Because it's something that doesn't bear thinking about._

"-my best..."

"Excuse me?"

The Queen snaps, a little unnecessarily, as she is pulled from her thoughts by the Sheriff's low drawl. She refuses to acknowledge the minute pang of guilt Emma's responding hurt frown demands.

"I... I said I'd try my best..."

"Oh... Well...Yes...You know, dinner won't be for a little while yet... I had planned on using the time to try and harness a little more control over my magic-"

The brunette resists the urge to smirk as Emma nods along as though she has the faintest clue how it all works, and instead carries on in a neutral tone which belies the kindness lacing her words.

"- But I can do so on the grounds. I'll seal the door when I leave... You should warm up and get some rest."

"...Thank you."

* * *

"Come on, hurry up!"

The brunette snaps at the younger woman who pads nervously behind her. Since returning to her room and shaking the Sheriff awake- the blonde so deeply asleep she had remained oblivious to the loud rumble of the Queen's voice- she has responded to Emma's sleepy questions and remarks with curt annoyance; her nerves getting the better of her and her mouth tasting hatefully of copper.

She supposes it allows her a chance to fall into character.

Leading the way to the Sea Witch's curiously disconcerting lair in which she had previously shared a meal with the hateful woman, Regina pauses at the door long enough to offer a final warning glance back at Emma, before raising her hand to knock lightly for admittance.

* * *

"Help yourself, precious."

The Sea Queen drawls, her jewel encrusted fingers fluttering over the vast array of food laid out on the table. Regina struggles to acknowledge this, her attention continually drawn with nauseous unease to the bowl that rests close to her feet. The odor expelled by the unidentifiable mess within is putrid, and she silently awards the Sheriff a small amount of respect as the younger woman refrains from gagging audibly at her unfortunate level, knelt beside the Mayor's chair.

A few more uneasy glances and she imagines she recognizes the heap of grey and red for what it is.

_You sick, twisted, wretched woman. You're feeding her the remains of the little display you forced her to witness?!_

The low whine she can make out from beside her suggests she isn't alone in having discerned the source of the foulness piled within the bowl.

"Something wrong, dearest?"

The Witch inquires, and the brunette notes with growing distaste that the two pale souls sat beside their mistress devour their share of the bloodied remains silently. Shaking her head, she forces herself to look up from the disturbing scene being played out on the floor and smiles thinly at the older woman, delicately stacking her plate with the luxurious spoils that weigh heavily down on the table.

"Not at all."

_Don't you eat that, Emma. Don't you let her make you think you have to go that far... _

She imagines- having suffered the full extent of the blonde's stubborn nature- that the Sheriff will do no such thing. It goes against all of her warnings littered down on the younger woman, but the reality of just what the Witch is expecting disgusts her and she is unwilling to pay witness to such cruelty.

Even if it_ is_ just Emma.

Such emotions aside, she finds her gaze flickering repeatedly down to the blonde who kneels silently beside her chair. Emma sits level with her feet, and Regina is unable to view her expression from her current position, her vision falling to pale shoulder blades and painfully tangled curls instead. It is enough to cause her disquiet, however, as she is sure that the Sheriff's spine and rib-cage are a little more pronounced than they had been upon playing nurse to the younger woman upon her arrival to this realm.

_Well, she is a slim girl as it is... And given the amount of junk she usually works her way through, such a lack of nourishment will be taking its toll. _

Striving to shrug such thoughts aside, she picks at the shrimp that sit succulent on her plate with pursed lips.

_Suddenly I find I am no longer hungry..._

This thought isn't shared by the blonde who struggles to keep from dry heaving as she looks miserably down at the mess before her. The smell only acts as a simple catalyst to the horrors her mind offers her, and she has an overwhelming urge to break. To crack. To flee the room and wait out whatever punishment such an act would garner. She has always been an avid fan of gore and slasher fiction, but the display put on for her benefit today weighs heavily on her mind, and to sit so close to putrid remains- with the looming idea of having to devour such carnage- has her head spinning nauseously.

And yet...

She wishes the brunette hadn't made her small remark in regards to when she'd last eaten. She knows it is no more Regina's fault than the idea is rational, but she is _certain_ that it was immediately after the words left pleasantly full lips that her stomach had begun clenching painfully; past the point of simple hunger, as though punishing her for her negligence.

She is not typically one to pay a little pain much mind- nor one to give in to something she doesn't wish to do- but as a vicious bolt of agony shoots through her gut, she leans forwards slightly with a silent groan, vaguely aware that she's perspiring as though suffering a fever.

_I can't... I can't... I can't..._

"Your girl refuses to eat..."

Ursula's words seem as though they come from far away to the blonde, but to the Mayor they herald her rigidly alert. Glancing down at Emma and the despicable offering in the bowl before her, she sniffs as though disinterested, shrugging amiably at the older woman.

"Then she will go hungry."

The Witch smirks wickedly at this, and Regina feels a pang of sympathy as she imagines the younger woman really must be feeling famished by now. Still... There is no way the blonde is going to eat what she has been offered, and in this unique instance, the Queen has no trouble backing her on this stubborn decision.

_I warned you to respect me and to play along... But if that hateful woman imagines for a second that she can-_

Such thoughts taper off into numb disbelief as dark coals regard the Sheriff wearily as shaking hands dip tentatively into slick viscera. Opening her mouth- not sure whether to gasp or scream at the woman kneeling at her feet to cease whatever cruel joke she seems to be playing- only a small, unintelligible noise escapes her lips, and she shakes her head slowly.

Snapping from her frozen shock as she observes a silent shudder- so reminiscent of a sob- rack through the younger woman's slender frame as the latter raises her gore streaked fingers to her lips, she barks angrily, causing both the Sheriff and the Witch to jump.

_I won't let it come to this. No. There's simply no way. _

"Of course, one might also find issue with the fact that the little harlot has been invited to dinner and yet refuses to behave with anything but insolence!"

She is dimly aware that her voice shakes slightly, but she banks on the hope that this goes unnoticed by the despicable woman opposite her. Grabbing a handful of messy curls with trembling fingers, she pulls the blonde up onto her feet clumsily; Emma reacting with little grace as she struggles to comprehend exactly what is required of her.

"Perhaps she imagines she is still a princess and that she is too good for such gruel...?"

Ursula remarks with caustic sweetness, her eyes glittering dangerously as she drinks in the scene the younger women offer.

Taking inspiration from the disturbing note of desire evident in the Sea Queen's tone, Regina smirks sordidly, looking up at the Sheriff with a carefully malicious smile.

"Do you, dear? Do you consider yourself too good for what our host has so graciously offered you?"

Emma regards her with wary confusion, her face pale and her mouth drawn. Silently willing the younger woman to get a grip and pull herself together, the Mayor takes advantage of the Sheriff's lack of sass to offer up her own.

"Well then, if you_ insist_ on deluding yourself that you are still a princess, I suppose I'll just have to_ treat_ you like a princess..."

Clenching her jaw with carefully hidden distaste, she pulls at the younger woman's skinny waist, dragging the blonde onto her lap with a grimace as debauchedly bare flesh presses against her hotly. The Sheriff squirms uncomfortably, green eyes wide as she twists to regard the brunette in disbelief, but a firm pinch at her side has her stilling warily, lowering her gaze down to her lap so as to avoid having to look either woman in the eye.

The action has her long hair cascading down over her slim frame demurely, veiling her face in a way the Mayor refuses to admit she finds curiously intriguing.

Plucking a small parcel filled with some sort of cream and scallops from her plate, Regina takes a deep breath before adopting a slow smile and raising it to the blonde's lips, keeping the nails of the hand hidden beneath the table pressed deliberately into the warm flesh of the younger woman's thigh lest she decide to react with anything but good grace.

At first, she is unsure if the blonde will accept her offering- nails digging cruelly into pale skin or not- but after a period of disobedient refusal to acknowledge the morsel held out to her, the Sheriff gives in and leans forward tentatively; hating the role she adheres to, but understanding its requirements all the same.

_What the fuck are you doing!? Seriously?!_

Seriously. Just as the Witch sat watching her from across the table is not to be argued with, neither is the pain gnawing at her belly.

She is stubborn... But she is anything but stupid.

She needs to eat.

She _wants_ to be strong, yes... But she _needs_ to eat.

Her teeth brush against the Mayor's thumb and she tenses as she feels rather than hears the sharp intake of breath this garners from the darker woman. Mistaking this reaction for irritation, the blonde draws back swiftly, her cheeks rouging just a little. The brunette, however, spies the sick satisfaction crossing the Witch's face and keeps her fingers where they are; remnants of cream and pastry marring perfect skin.

_You can't be serious..._

The Sheriff's incredulous reaction upon realising the brunette keeps her fingers extended to be cleaned is thwarted before she can let it show as sharp nails claw painfully at her thigh. Breath coming just a little quicker, she swallows, before leaning forward once more and tasting the Mayor delicately; sharp tongue flickering against sun kissed skin before she gives in to her wariness and allows Regina to slip a finger between her lips.

_Fuck... Oh fuck... Oh-_

"-No-"

Unable to keep her emotions under control, the blonde pulls away, shuddering, the intrusion of Regina's fingers dancing playfully against her tongue entirely obscene. Her reaction is met with a raised eyebrow from across the table, and the Witch lets out a cruel laugh as she regards the Mayor with a smirk.

"So ill-behaved... I had expected better discipline from you, child...But you are proving weak..."

Her words are disturbingly reminiscent of the brunette's mother, and the Queen growls as she pulls roughly on tangled tresses and bites at the pale flesh of the younger woman's throat. It is a spontaneous action. Raw. Aggressive. Dominant. Garnering both a choked cry from the Sheriff and a low hum of approval from Ursula. Her mind black with adrenaline and irritation, the brunette runs her tongue up to the sharp line of the blonde's jaw before pulling back and using her violent grip on long curls to force the younger woman to look at her.

"How dare you embarrass me in such a way! I am taking notes of your insubordination, girl, and you best believe I'm going to make you pay later... You can count on it..."

The Sheriff's expression is so close to vacant with shock that the brunette fears for a second that the woman in her lap will simply crumble, but then an easily missed spark of irritation glints at her from behind curious green, and the blonde's shoulders slump as she mutters quietly

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty..."

Silently wishing- despite all the commotion and nervous energy- she could have recorded these words falling so sheepishly from soft lips, Regina allows herself a secretive smirk. Taking advantage of what is a tense expectancy of her dominance, she goes on to pluck another morsel from her plate, once more feeding it to the younger woman, but allowing herself to fall more solidly into the role while releasing her grip to the Sheriff's thigh as the younger woman plays warily along.

By the time the plates are cleared from the extravagant table, the Sheriff's hunger has been mercifully sated and the nauseous rigidity to her slim limbs has dissipated.

She follows the Queen from the room with her head bowed obediently.

* * *

"Holy shit..."

Emma laughs nervously when they finally reach the privacy of the brunette's bedroom. Her mirth is little more than a masquerade and Regina shakes her head as she paces the room rubbing the fingers of the hand used to feed the blonde repetitively on her skirt.

"Quite..."

"That was... I mean..."

"Yes..."

"I, uh..."

"Shut up."

There is little malice to the Queen's tone, simply a weary fatigue. Keeping her gaze pointedly from the younger woman's bare frame she takes a seat on the bed and smooths out an invisible crease to one of the pillows with absurd diligence. Her act is thwarted somewhat, however, when Emma refuses to do as she's told.

"So... What now?"


	24. Chapter 24

**A/N: **_Just a little SQ dialogue scene before we go catch up with Snow. Hope you enjoy all the same :) Please comment._

* * *

_"So... What now?"_

Looking up at the blonde cautiously, Regina frowns, adopting a tone a little more nonchalant than she truly feels.

"How do you mean?"

"Well..."

Emma shrugs awkwardly, toying with her long hair in an attempt to tease it into covering her up better. Keeping her gaze trained on the brunette, she simply waits as the Queen regards her intently; becoming ever so slightly nervous when dark eyes seem to glitter wickedly. Finally dropping her own so that she looks down on the fraying bandage at her elbow, she fidgets with loose gauze distractedly, her voice low as she strives to banish the sudden memory of cruel teeth grazing her throat.

She wonders if the darker woman has left her mark.

"Like... Are we going to bed now or what?"

Letting out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in following the blonde's erroneous question, Regina tosses her silky locks back briskly, adopting a tone much closer to her normal rich timbre.

"Why, is it getting to be past your bedtime, dear?"

Surprising the brunette when she opts to play along with the snide cattiness lacing her inquiry, Emma simply nods, yawning dramatically before offering a small smile.

"Getting there, yeah; I'm going to start getting cranky if you don't watch out!"

"God, you're just like Henry-"

Stilling abruptly as she comes to the realization of what she's just said, Regina throws the Sheriff a poisonous look as though accusing the younger woman for this verbal slip up.

Emma merely shrugs.

"I'm just beat... Dinner was, uh, pretty intense..."

The frown this statement garners from the Queen softens slightly when green eyes flicker up to meet brown apologetically and the blonde offers up a nervous grin.

"Well... If you'd been better behaved..."

Similarly, the anger that alights the Sheriff's features at these words dissipates into a simple rolling of her eyes as Regina allows a small smile of her own to grace full lips.

_How curious that we should be joking with one another in such a way... _

"I suppose getting some sleep would be a wise idea, Miss Swan."

Rising from the bed and locating the brush that rests on the vanity in the corner, the Queen glances back up at the younger woman when the latter proceeds to simply stand awkwardly against the wall and raises an eyebrow in question.

"Can I help you, dear?"

"Well I... I mean... Am I... Am I sleeping here?... With you?"

Sighing as she ponders- not for the first time- the way the Sheriff's perpetual clumsiness with her tongue only serves to make an awkward situation that much worse, Regina places the brush back on the table, fluffing her dark hair fussily.

"I would have thought so... But it's up to you."

"But I... I mean, I'm..."

Failing to finish off her sentence, the blonde simply clears her throat and gestures at herself with a flick of her wrist.

_Naked... And there's only one bed... _

"Yes, I'm quite aware of your current lack of attire, dear. It's hard to miss."

Despite this curt response, Regina slowly comes to the realization that she herself possesses just the one outfit, and, while in a slightly more fortuitous position than the younger woman, she had slept the previous evening in just her lingerie for comfort. Cheeks rouging a little as she sniffs irritably, she finds she has a hard time not blaming Emma for the way things are currently not quite going to plan.

It _is_ habit after all.

Stalking over to the dresser that stands beside the door, she decides that one of the things she will look forward to most about returning home- not counting seeing Henry, of course- is to be back in the possession of her own wardrobe; borrowing another woman's things making her feel uncomfortable at best. As she plucks at the various curious wisps of fabric, she senses the younger woman padding up behind her and turns to face her with a frown.

"I wasn't looking for _you_..."

"But-"

"-Miss Swan... You can't borrow clothes belonging to the Sea Queen. I would have hoped_ that_ much would be _obvious_ to you..."

"Then can you give me something of yours? Please?!"

"My dear, do _you_ recall packing a suitcase upon our departure from your mother's castle? Because_ I_ most certainly do not."

"Regina..."

The Sheriff huffs irritably in response to the brunette's caustic sarcasm, but she proceeds to retreat to the bed and perch upon its plush covers in sullen silence.

Opting for a deep indigo shift, the Queen drapes soft fabric over her arm and heads towards the small door at the very end of the room which leads to a grand en-suite bathroom. As she passes Emma, she sighs, offering the younger woman a tired glance.

"You'll be more comfortable once beneath the covers..."

"I know. But-"

"- Just give your mouth a rest for once and get into bed, Miss Swan."

Her tone is dismissive; not wishing to engage in a conversation which may vocalize the obscurity as to their current predicament. She is less than impressed at the thought of sharing her bed with the younger woman, but she knows that sending the blonde away isn't an option. She is almost_ positive_ that such a command would be one of the few to which Emma would adhere without much fuss out of mere pride, but she refuses to find out whether her suspicions are founded.

_As you said yourself, dear, we may not always see eye to eye... But I will _not_ stoop to such despicable treatment. _

Besides, it's not as though she hasn't had to share a bed with the Sheriff before. The thought is a strange one- particularly as in both instances Emma's attire has been lacking to say the least- and she finds she is unable to push it away with the same ease she often discards those things she doesn't wish to dwell on.

Slipping into the bathroom and closing the door behind her- sliding across the small golden lock just for good measure- she regards herself in the mirror that overlooks a large, shell basin warily. She is acutely aware as to the similarity between this occasion and the last time the blonde had played her bed-mate, but she deduces that she looks in a much better state at present than she had previously... And there is something peculiarly comforting in knowing that the Sheriff sits in bed woeful, but not wounded.

No, not wounded.

But marked?... Yes.

She has found it hard since retiring to her bed chamber not to stare at the small, purple bruise at the younger woman's throat; her body reacting in a most peculiar way. Becoming hot and flushed as though with fever. She imagines that Emma will later litter her with irritable remarks upon discovering the bite-mark for herself, but the Sheriff's annoyance weighs little on her mind.

_Well, if she wasn't so fantastically pale, she would have less cause to fuss._

She shakes her head swiftly as thoughts of the blonde's alabaster flesh, marred by the delicate bow of her clavicles, begs her mind to travel further south; such a sight- through no fault of her own- no longer a mystery.

"Stop pondering such things, dear; you are allowing the Witch to play with your mind."

Really? Is that really the case? True, she had played her role exceptionally well down at the dinner table, indicating a sort of sick infatuation with the little idiot, but it had been a _ruse_. An _act_.

The very idea that she should even _consider_ the younger woman's appeal is utterly ridiculous.

_I would be hard put to find any note of 'appeal' to our lovely Sheriff at all!_

She smirks at this, but it is a half-hearted expression; her mind flashing her the disturbingly unwarranted image of the blonde sat in the topiary garden of her mother's castle, snowflakes bejewelling thick golden curls like diamonds.

She abruptly splashes her face with water.

* * *

When the brunette returns to the bedroom, she finds the Sheriff peering up at her sleepily as she lies curled up in bed facing the bathroom door. The younger woman's hair covers the majority of her face in a tangled nightmare, but curious green glitters in sardonic amusement with irritable clarity. Regina purses her lips and stalks over to the chair by the vanity to lay her clothes carefully over its high back.

"If you _dare_ laugh, Miss Swan, I will have you locked outside that door so fast you won't know what hit you."

The heaped throw that engulfs the Sheriff vibrates tellingly, but Emma sensibly forbids any sound from escaping her lips. In all honesty, she is more intrigued than she is maliciously amused. She imagines that, had anyone else emerged clad in the thin, cotton shift the Queen now wears, they would have looked ludicrously childlike. As it is, Regina manages to maintain a disconcertingly regal air despite the soft indigo brushing her thighs being so very reminiscent of a young girl's nightie.

"I wouldn't dream of it."

"Hmm, I'm sure..."

"I wouldn't! I'd hate to add to that little list you're making..."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Of all my insubordinations."

Again, the soft material that covers the Sheriff trembles with her silent laughter and the brunette sighs disdainfully, despite the strange little flip her stomach gives as the blonde draws out her last word with purposeful sordidness. Slipping briskly beneath the covers and eliminating the lights with a flick of her wrist, she keeps meticulously close to the edge of her side of the bed as she snipes back

"There's not enough notepaper in the world for such a task."

Dark eyes widen in the shadows as a sharp movement from her left would suggest to the Mayor that Emma had just attempted kicking her beneath the covers. She tries to tell herself that she is mistaken; that the younger woman had done no such thing... Either way, she is relieved that the blonde's narrow foot failed to make contact with her own as she is unsure of just how she would have reacted to such an assault.

"Watch your hip, dear."

"... Oh... Okay... It's not so bad now, actually."

"That's good."

"...Yeah."

Silence draws out heavily between them, and the Queen begins to imagine that the Sheriff has fallen asleep; just able to make out the pale slope of the younger woman's shoulder and the soft curve of her spine through the shadows. Closing her own eyes and turning away from the blonde, she attempts to banish all thought from her mind and strives to greet the Sandman.

She is almost successful, too, before the younger woman whispers quietly

"Thank you, Regina."

The brunette's eyes shoot open; her lashes inexplicably wet.

The Sheriff doses off, oblivious; certain that the Queen has been taken by sleep.


	25. Chapter 25

**A/N:**_ I lied. The next chapter will check up on Snow. I decided I wanted to do a short mirroring chapter to the previous one. Hope you enjoy! :)_

* * *

_Scarlet lips claim soft pink dominantly, before beginning a wet trail of descent down white flesh laced with the translucent blue of vulnerable veins; vital beneath the surface. Sharp white teeth close down mercilessly an inch above the narrow ridge of a delicate clavicle, increasing their sordid pressure until sweet copper spills out over a velvet tongue, causing both parties to groan. _

_Skilled fingers find silken folds as spilt blood is dragged hotly down the soft ripple of a sternum and sharp nails find the other's wounded throat; scratching cruelly before slim fingers enclose around the slender column with a heated sense of danger. _

_The speed with which the southern intrusion takes place increases ruthlessly, and taut limbs begin to tremble as kiss-swollen lips emit a harsh cry..._

In the darkness of the Queen's bedroom, the blonde's eyes shoot open as she clamps a hand hastily over her mouth; the curious choked noise she makes muffled by her fingers.

_What the actual fuck!?_

Allowing herself a moment as she strives to still harsh breaths and the frantic beating of her heart, she blinks childishly until her surroundings merge into an indigo maze of shadow and moonlight. Twisting slowly onto her side, she studies the sleep-serene features of the darker woman's face with a frown, her eyes lingering on gently parted lips before she gives herself a mental shake and falls quietly back down into her pillow; regarding the ceiling with an expression of numb shock.

_That was... I mean... That was _Regina_..._

She is sure of it, despite the fact that she is unable to recall the dream woman's face. There had been something in the sheer power, and the obscure passion within the other woman which leaves her in no doubt.

"Oh my god..."

She whispers, slinging her arm over her eyes as she continues to try and get her thoughts under control. It's not so much the sapphic nature of the dream that has her thrown- she's twenty-eight years old after all, and has done her fair share of experimenting- but rather the fact that it is the brunette who had played her partner.

_That is some majorly messed up shit, Swan..._

"Well if it wasn't for fucking _Ursula_..."

Quite. If it wasn't for the Sea Witch instilling such preposterous fancies into her skull there's no way she ever would have conceived of such a scenario.

Not even subconsciously.

Never.

She nods distractedly, as if affirming such thoughts to herself as she strives to ignore the existence of the warm thrum between her legs.

"Oh, for fuck's sake."

Grumbling, she plays her fingers over the tender bruise just above her collarbone idly. She sighs, sure that there must be some form of visible mark there due to the sharp twinge created by the natural salt of her fingertips brushing over fragile flesh. Ordinarily, her first reaction upon discovering such a resultant mark would have her seething angrily- not one to advocate advertising one's sordid activities to the world- but she finds that rather than fury or embarrassment, she simply feels a dreadful awkwardness.

She is sure she blushes madly in the dark.

"Get a grip..."

She mutters, rolling irritably onto her side and shuffling as far away as possible from her oblivious bed-mate. Her mind continues to race; begging the ridiculous question of whether or not she finds the Mayor to be attractive, to be desirable, to be of interest. Such thoughts only serve to frustrate her more with their sheer ludicrousness.

Unlike Regina, she herself has never so much harbored a true _dislike_ for the other woman, but rather a distaste for the way in which she has been treated on numerous occasions. As such, she doesn't struggle with the idea of having to face the fact she may have some form of peculiar fondness- no... not _fondness,_ perhaps... But a _liking_, for sure- for the often infuriating brunette in the same way the Queen has had to deal with her increasingly positive feelings in regards to the blonde.

She owes a lot to the darker woman.

It's not _just_ that though... She has secretly enjoyed their petty bickering during the time spent so far away from Storybrooke. True, it could be a case of such altercations acting as a simple cure for any potential homesickness- Regina's dripping disdain at the majority of her words and actions about as familiar as the deathlike shrieking of the springs of her bed back at the apartment- but she supposes the _reason_ doesn't really matter.

She is growing to quite enjoy the Queen's company.

And it's not as though the darker woman is_ unattractive_... No, quite the opposite.

_Will you quit it! What the hell's wrong with you!? Take a mental cold shower and stop this madness before you hurt yourself!_

Striving stubbornly for sleep, she angrily forbids herself from thinking on the matter any longer; refusing to allow the Witch's sick games to mess with her head.

* * *

There probably exists only a space of about five seconds between the dull knock at the door and the Sea Queen entering of the brunette's bed chambers, and the darker woman will later think that, had she not been on the verge of waking, things could have turned out very differently.

As it is, the muffled sound of Ursula's heavy fist brushing the door rouses her swiftly, possibly due to a disconcerting sense of disorientation she feels when she notices warm flesh pressed against her own. Casting a bleary glance down to her left, she frowns at the Sheriff who lies curled up neatly beside her; bare shins pressing against her thigh.

_Shit_

Eyes widening as her brain thankfully kicks into gear, she grabs the younger woman's shoulder roughly and shakes her, before coming to the realization that she has little time for Emma to grace the here and now with her conscious presence. Securing a better grip on slender limbs, she pushes ruthlessly, sending the blonde toppling from the bed with a cry of surprise.

"Shut up!"

It is a low hiss as the Mayor re-positions herself in the middle of the bed, but, incredibly, it works; Emma blinking back shocked tears at the sharp bite of pain emanating from her bruised tailbone as the Sea Witch enters the room.


	26. Chapter 26

"Marvelous, you're awake."

Ursula drawls huskily as her eyes linger on thin, indigo cotton and the pert flesh it does little to hide. Regina pulls the heavy covers that pool about her waist up to cover herself primly, unable to hide the cold bite to her tone the Sea Witch's open perversion has garnered.

"Good morning..."

Ice ridden words go unnoticed, as the Sea Queen's attention falls to the blonde who remains sprawled beside the bed. She lies awkwardly on her back, propped up on her elbows, allowing fear-filled green to dart about the large woman's buxom frame frantically.

It's not the Sheriff's_ eyes_ in which Ursula's interests currently lie, however; tongue protruding to wet thick lips as she drinks in milky thighs littered with the delicate flowers of healing bruises, splayed almost wantonly in the blonde's current position. The ruined scrap of the younger woman's underwear serves more to tease than to offer her any modesty; the tattered fabric all but begging to be ripped from pale flesh once and for all.

"And a good morning to you, sweetness."

The Witch directs her words towards the brunette, but offers the Sheriff a coy wink which doesn't go unnoticed by either of the younger two women.

"I do hope I'm not interrupting anything..."

Hooded orbs lock with green and the blonde takes in a sharp breath as she is abruptly reminded of her dream starring the glowering brunette sat on the bed above her; inexplicably sure that Ursula can see right into her mind and that the Witch knows _exactly_ what sordid images had awoken her during the night.

The Sea Queen smirks knowingly as Emma hastily lowers her eyes to the floor; pale cheeks pinkening prettily.

"Not at all, Your Majesty, I had only just awoken... May I help you at all?"

Regina's words are laced with brittle discomfort; not liking the predatory way the Witch looks down at the younger woman one bit.

Even if it_ is_ only Emma.

"Help? No, darling, I require no assistance... At least, not at present. No, I merely wished to stop by in person to inform you of the gala that will be held in the great ballroom tomorrow evening. I am currently the recipient of royal guests other than yourself as you may have heard, and the evening has been planned for some time now in celebration of their visit. I apologise, as it is for this reason that the matter of getting you and your spoils home is taking a little longer then you had perhaps expected, but I am nothing if not a gracious host, and these things are, unfortunately, not to be neglected due to unforeseen circumstances."

"Of course not, I understand. I am merely grateful that you would agree to help me at all..."

"Your mother was a dear friend, precious."

"And she was lucky to have a friend in yourself, I am sure."

"You are kind."

"I simply speak the truth, Your Majesty."

The words feel slick and nauseating as they drip from her tongue, but the Mayor forces herself to smile, while repeating over and over in her mind that her act is simply a means to an end. She is relieved that the blonde has so far kept her mouth shut, and only prays that this small notice is the Witch's only reason for visiting.

"You must come down, my darling, and meet my guests. I would find it most pleasurable should you attend."

"... I would be delighted to."

"Splendid!"

Ursula claps her thick-fingered hands together in a perversely childlike fashion, dark eyes glittering piggishly as she offers the brunette a simpering smile.

"Oh, how droll! I will have you escorted down to the east wing to find something fitting to wear after lunch tomorrow. I am still in possession of a great array of garments owned by the girls who once paid me company. I'm sure you will find something in your size, dear one."

_Owned by the girls who once paid you company?_

_Delphine?_

_Stop this. Thinking upon the matter will get you nowhere._

"That is most kind of you..."

"Not at all, sweetheart, not at all... I will look forward to it."

With that, Ursula takes her leave, fluttering bejewelled fingers as she slips out into the hallway, leaving Regina to mull over her words with a frown.

"...Nothing changes, it's always the pretty, popular girls who get invited to the parties."

Emma's sarcastic drawl has the brunette jumping in surprise and she glares down at the younger woman angrily, her cheeks flushing ever so slightly when she takes in the blonde's position.

"_Must_ you lie that way?"

Glancing down at herself and realising that she lies with her legs casually splayed and her hair tumbling down her back thus providing no cover, Emma curls up sheepishly, moving so that she sits with her knees drawn up in front of her chest with a small wince.

"Are you alright?"

"Apart from being pretty sure you've shattered my tailbone in your haste to get me out of bed, then yes."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic."

Regina snaps, despite feeling a small twinge of concern.

_After all, if _anyone_ should recognise the feeling of shattering one's bones it's her..._

_Yes, but if_ anyone_ should make insufferable, irrelevant comments, I believe Miss Swan would be the primary contender also._

"You're fine."

"Yes, doctor."

Rolling her eyes, the Queen sighs, watching expressionlessly as Emma reaches for the woollen throw that now lies forlorn beside the bed and wraps herself up before moving so that she sits with her back rested against the wall, her long hair tumbling over the thick fabric chaotically.

"So it looks like you're going to be mingling with the elite tomorrow..."

Whatever caustic teasing she had meant to inject into her tone falls flat, her brow furrowing instead as she nibbles nervously at her lip.

"... Are you going to be alright?"

Well plucked eyebrows arch in surprise before the brunette answers pensively.

"I imagine so. I have played both host and guest at a great many galas and soirees in my time... They are invariable frightfully dull and involve a lot of heated gossip falling from liquored lips. My greatest fear is that I shall die due to boredom."

She sniffs arrogantly, but doesn't kid herself that she's fooled the Sheriff in the slightest; the younger woman offering her an awkward shrug and laying the topic hesitantly to rest.

"I guess it's going to be a while before she helps us then..."

"... I'm afraid so."

"I, uh... I'm not gonna lie; I'm itching to get out of here, you know? She's fucking creepy-"

"-hush, dear."

"What?! Like you-"

"-Emma!... You need to learn to keep such opinions to yourself... Not because they aren't understood, but because you risk the possibility of them being overheard."

"... You think she's listening?"

The blonde's hushed whisper is so similar to Henry's in its ridiculous extravagance, the brunette finds herself rolling her eyes with a peculiar fondness masquerading as irritability.

"I think it's best you keep quiet more often... I'd urge you to continue this same caution once we get home also."

"Oh, bite me."

A light blush follows these words as pale fingers whisper against bruised flesh of their own accord and the Mayor looks swiftly away.

"... Guess that's gonna be... too..."

"Excuse me?"

Regina barks with unnecessary venom as the Sheriff mutters inaudibly. She sighs, telling herself to refrain from doing this quite so often as it only serves to garner her that hateful doe-eyed look of hurt which doesn't seem to suit the Sheriff's features at all.

"I didn't catch that..."

Lower. Kinder.

Emma shrugs moodily, her eyes downcast to her knees which peek palely from the folds of the throw; the bandage to the left one fraying and filthy.

"It doesn't matter."

"No, go on."

"I just... I want to see my mom."

Soft lips form that ever familiar hard line as the younger woman looks up and readies herself for snide ridicule.

"Oh."

"I just... I need to see her, you know... I know_ you_ probably don't... But... Would it be okay if we went up there? Please?"

Regina frowns at the sudden earnest in the blonde's expression and she understands that this is something the Sheriff has been building up the nerve to ask for some time now.

She wonders just how long.

She wonders why Emma's mind works in such a peculiar fashion.

"Miss Swan..."

The hard line of the younger woman's mouth turns down at the corners and the brunette sighs, not accustomed to dealing with such matters with the patience she is currently trying to offer.

"You can't go up there..."

"Not on my own, I know, but if you went and took me with you... I'll be good, I promise. I'll, like, walk behind you or whatever... I just... She's my best friend and I'm worried about her... I know you said she's fine... But... She's my... My..."

"... She's your mother."

"Well, yeah... And I know you probably think that would be a stupid reason for me to want to see her given as we've never really-"

"- I think nothing of the sort. What I _do_ think is that while you view Miss Blanchett first and foremost as your friend, she herself views you as her daughter. More that that, though... You are her princess, however much you may despise the term... You can't go visit her... Not like this."

The Queen gives a graceful sweep of her hand to gesture towards the blonde's lack of attire.

"But-"

"-You will be doing her no favours going to her in your current state, Sheriff."

Preparing for the next words of argument from the younger woman, the brunette frowns in surprise when the blonde proceeds to simply open and close her mouth wordlessly before lowering her face onto her knees. Clearing her throat awkwardly, Regina searches for something to say; recognising the Sheriff's position as one of upset and distress, but not entirely sure her mind can comprehend these emotions being expressed by the Swan woman quite to early in the morning.

_Where on earth did this suddenly come from?_

It is a half-hearted thought, however, as she imagines she understands most of it even before Emma answers her question in a low drawl; muttering into the heavy wool that covers her legs as she refuses to look up at the Queen.

"I'm_ sick_ of being in this 'state'. I don't want to _do_ this anymore... I never even used to get changed in the locker room at the _pool_, and now everyone's looking at me and I don't want them to! Dinner was _embarrassing_ for me, okay? Probably for you too, but more so for me and I don't care how childish you think that sounds. _I'm_ the one that has to be naked and made fun of. I'm tired and I don't feel all that good, and I just want Mary Margaret and I'm sorry because I know you've been trying really hard to be nice to me and that can't be easy of you, but I don't want _you_ to be nice to me. I want my mom."

The blonde's rambling is hard to understand, both due to the fact that her voice comes out in muffled bursts, and due to the fact that as she speaks her mannerisms become more and more childlike, leaving the Mayor feeling both irritated and concerned as she stares down at the heavy waterfall of curls that shroud the younger woman messily.

"I can't let you take clothes belonging to Ursula..."

Silence.

Regina moves to the edge of the bed so as better to regard the Sheriff, taking in the motionless ball of wool and hair uncomfortably.

"You can't go to see her like this, Emma, you just can't... But..."

Closing her eyes as she makes her final decision, she places a brief prayer to any interested deity that she isn't going to royally regret extending such uncharacteristic kindness to the insufferable young woman, before glancing down at Emma once more and letting out a defeated sigh.

"...There _is_ another way..."


	27. Chapter 27

**A/N: **_I will probably upload the next part to this tonight as I had originally planned to do this entire section as one long chapter (depending on how much whisky is consumed at the pub that is) but I needed a break as this was by far the most confusing chapter to write. I also wanted to mention, I vaguely remember when I first found FF reading an awesome fic with a mildly similar idea as displayed in this chapter, and just wanted to say that no copying/ stealing of ideas is intended. I hope you enjoy, and please comment! :)_

* * *

"...There _is_ another way..."

"...What?"

The blonde's response is more of a sob than a word and Regina sighs, debating whether she should lower herself from the bed to comfort the younger woman, but deciding in the end that there has to be a line drawn somewhere.

Old habits die hard.

"... You can't go to Snow in your current state..."

"I know that... You just told me that..."

Sullen. Muffled. Defeated.

"...Not in your _current_ state... But in _another_ state... In another _form_..."

Emma lifts her head slowly, resting her chin on her knees, her eyes slightly pink and the coarse pattern of the throw imprinted on her left cheek.

"...What?"

"Well, not only would it be highly inappropriate for you to seek out Snow when you look the way you currently do, but_ you_ are not permitted to go up to the tower at _all_ without my accompaniment, and, clothed or not, I can only _imagine_ what your mother would have to say should we pay her a visit with you following me around like some poor, kicked, little puppy... _I_, however, am neither nude, nor festering in a layer of grime and shame... And _I_ have the freedom to walk the halls and visit the tower without issue..."

"Are you... Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"

"Well, I've deduced you not to be _entirely_ idiotic, so I would imagine so, yes."

"I... You can_ do_ that?"

"I can."

"But... I mean...You _would_ do that, though?... For _me_?"

Regina sniffs arrogantly; thrown by Emma's open request for an answer to a question she had imagined both of them would rather avoid delving too deeply into.

"If it means I get an hour to myself while also giving you cause to hush your irritable fussing, then the benefits simply outweigh the-"

Freezing up rigidly, the brunette's eyes widen incredulously as the younger woman launches herself onto the bed; slim arms encircling shock-hunched shoulders as pale curls brush distractingly against her cheek.

"... _Really_, Miss Swan..."

Clearing her throat awkwardly, the Queen pushes the Sheriff away with a gentleness that surprises even herself; a little panic stricken when Emma proceeds to wipe at her eyes tellingly as she perches beside her on the bed.

"I just offered to _help_ you... Why on earth are you crying?!"

"I'm not..."

"...You could have fooled me..."

"Shut up."

The blonde lets out an watery laugh as she mutters these last words, composing herself with a couple more swipes of the back of her hand over salted cheeks before turning to regard the Queen sheepishly.

"Sorry..."

Thinning her lips, Regina holds her breath in anticipation of a second attack as the younger woman leans towards her, but Emma simply neatens up the errant strands of chestnut which suffered the brunt of her sudden affection.

The blonde offers a shy smile, trying her best to keep the perplexing surge of emotion she feels heavy in her chest from spilling out onto the surface for both of their sakes. She is touched, not just that Regina should offer to help her in such a magnitudinous way, but by_ everything_ the brunette has done for her. She would never wish the position enforced upon her here in the Underwater Kingdom onto anyone, but she can't help but feel a small sense of sadness as she imagines the Queen will never truly be able to comprehend just how much comfort she has provided since this madness first started... Regardless of their differences.

"I, uh... I'm...-"

"-Making a spectacle of yourself. Really, dear, I do hope you plan on behaving in a slightly more respectable manner given the imminent circumstances."

Despite these words, the Mayor extends a finger to deftly wipe away an escaped tear which balances perilously at the sharp line of the blonde's jaw.

"No sobbing or rambling; got it..."

The Sheriff jokes, sniffing as she giggles.

"No sobbing, no rambling, no cussing, no 'Emma' antics-"

"-'Emma' antics?"

"Yes, none of those, thank you very much! _Should_ you get the innate urge to do something and find yourself wondering 'is this acceptable?'; it most likely isn't."

"Oh, Regina-"

"-And you can wipe that stupid grin off your face, too. _You_ may be suffering from some form of emotional schizophrenia at present, but I myself struggle to find this situation all that amusing... Just... _Behave_. That's all I ask."

"...You know I will..."

"Do I? That would be a first!"

The brunette sniffs irritably, though she recognizes the sincerity written across the younger woman's face for what it is.

And she suppose she _does_ know that Emma will behave herself.

_Try_ to behave herself anyway.

For if there is anything they have in common, it is their lack of having had those around them willing to extend a hand when it was needed, and she knows deep down that the blonde's giddy mirth is no more than a masquerade for her true emotions which had resulted in the brief loss of control leading her to offer up such an uninhibited embrace.

"I suppose time will tell..."

Rising from the bed in a business like fashion, she moves to stand before the Sheriff who suddenly looks decidedly ashen as she regards the Queen with wide eyes.

"...Wh-what do I do?"

"_You_ do nothing, dear, although I suppose you may wish to sit tight as I really don't need to witness myself stumbling about helplessly in your ever graceless manner."

Such a taunt receives none of the usual sardonic response; the tension in the room almost tactile as the blonde closes her eyes with a nervous hum and simply waits.

"... Are you just going to sit there?"

"You just _said_ you didn't need me to do- _Holy shit_!"

The Sheriff winces as she bites her tongue in her haste to snap her mouth shut.

_No... Not my tongue... Regina's. _

Taking in a couple of deep breaths- still not quite able to get over the rich timbre of her words- she peeks through sooty lashes tentatively before her eyes shoot open in shock and she lets out a choked cry.

"_Fuck!_"

"Stop that!"

The words are delivered with Regina's patent disdain, but the lips from which they fall are pale and unmarked.

"You... you're..."

Wondering if she's about to lose whatever broken grip on sanity she still possesses, Emma simply closes her eyes again, childishly shutting out the madness.

"... Sheriff..."

"This is impossible..."

"_Do_ try to get a grip!"

"But you're... You're... Oh fuck me, this is crazy..."

"What did I_ tell_ you about using that kind of language?"

"Kind of think it's _warranted_, Regina!"

Finally trusting herself to open her eyes again, the Sheriff blinks slowly as she regards the woman before her in utter disbelief. Pale fingers find sharp hips irritably, but the stance is all wrong as the woman she observes stands with her feet planted square apart and her back slightly arched; the mannerisms of one with a smaller build than the long limbs she observes.

"You, uh...Oh shit... Y-you want to at least grab the throw? Please?"

Arching her eyebrows, the brunette turns to fetch the discarded rag, the sensation strange as she attempts to school foreign limbs into moving in a way unnatural to them. Succeeding, and wrapping the throw securely around her newly acquired frame, she sighs as she catches the Sheriff staring at her with her mouth wide open.

"...When you've quite finished_ admiring_ yourself..."

"I wasn't! I was... Oh man, this is so _fucked up_-"

"Miss Swan!"

Perfect skin reddens slightly as the woman on the bed looks down at hands that don't belong to her. She is torn between the urge to giggle madly at the way her voice sounds when used in reprimand- reprimanding _herself_, she might add; that's the kicker here, right?- as the woman hovering over her barks irritably in the dry drawl that sounds so peculiar when not within her control, and simply pleading insanity.

The Queen herself suffers a moment's irritation as she feels pale cheeks react to the peculiar image of herself openly staring at Emma's unclad form in a similar way.

_Yes, but it isn't at all what it looked like... When in _control_ I can rest easy knowing the Swan woman and that expression gracing my face will never coincide... Ever._

Sighing as she watches the Sheriff pull her dark locks into disarray with trembling fingers, Regina clears her throat; the sensation odd and creating a sound so unlike the one she is used to making. Regardless, it seems to pull Emma from her shocked stupor and the younger woman looks back up at her with glittering Spanish eyes.

"Why are you...I mean... You're _me_!"

"As observant as ever, dear. Believe me, this is _not_ by choice, but I trust you've watched enough of those trashy films Henry keeps babbling on about ever since you arrived pertaining to such fancies as time travel and alternate universes to understand why it would be foolish for myself to exist as a double."

Regina watches, intrigued, as a smile that looks most bizarre on her full lips graces the other woman's face; the Sheriff tickled at the disdainful tone adopted when speaking of time travel and sci-fi when this experience itself is perhaps the most preposterous of any she could ever fathom.

"I guess that kind of makes sense..."

The Queen nods, suppressing a frown as she concludes that with Emma running her mouth she suddenly sounds as though she has lost a great many IQ points; used to the terms of phrase used by the blonde, but not when expressed in such a sultry, rich tone.

"Of course it makes sense, Sheriff, but this is _not_ a guise I relish, so I wish to make sure one last time that you understand the rules of this little scenario..."

Pushing herself awkwardly from the bed, Emma takes a few tentative steps forwards until she stands directly before the other woman; entirely disconcerted as she is forced to look up into cool green and angular brows.

"Behave..."

"Or else..."

"No Emma antics..."

"No Emma antics... And understand too, Miss Swan, that we are not characters in one of your books... Should you find yourself in trouble, I am unable to rush to your aid... You may_ look_ like a Queen, but you posses no power, no magic, and you best hope this doesn't pose a problem. You are to walk with your head held high and yourself in check down that hallway, and you are not to speak to anyone unless it proves entirely necessary to do so... You will see the tower upon exiting the Palace, you can't miss it. I will wait here until you are done... And you best know now that there will be _no_ wandering off, no dawdling, no mouthing off for any reason... I am already beginning to regret this decision... Don't prove me right in doing so."

"...I promise."

Simple. Kind. Sincere.

"Good Luck."

Regina perches stiffly back on the bed as she watches the other woman stalk from the room; a little slower than she might perhaps walk herself, but otherwise the Sheriff pulls off her sweeping exit surprisingly well.


	28. Chapter 28

Making her way down the statue studded hallway, Emma finds herself repeating the mantra 'don't freak out, don't freak out, don't freak out' over and over in her head. She supposes the ominous depictions of nubile wretches in various displays of submission do little to ease her troubled mind, but at the forefront of her disquiet is the simple peculiarity that accompanies what should be effortless movement.

It is a most disconcerting feeling, placing one foot in front of the other; an act repeated day in, day out since about two years of age- at least, she would reckon on this being the case, but it's not as though she has anyone to ask who might have documented the feat- with no thought or effort at all. The closest thing to which she can relate her current predicament is having to learn to put weight on her leg again after sustaining a bad break at the age of twenty-three; the raised letters of the embossed licence plate belonging to the car responsible leaving a bruise across her fractured shin which had been almost legible.

Regina's legs are a little shorter than her own, which is something numerous arguments spent with her teeth bared in the brunette's face could have taught her without having to undergo this most unusual transition, but the difference in the tilt to their hips and the way the weight is dispersed on their frames is something she has never given pause for thought. Now though, as she stalks regally down the empty cavernous hall, she finds herself pondering with wonder the strange fluidity of the darker woman's limbs. It is almost as though she glides across the intricate marble rather than walks as a mere mortal might, and she finds pleasure in the fact, despite its difference to the norm.

To_ her_ norm.

However, the aspect of the change that her mind seems most intent to return to, is the odd sensation of, well, _femininity_ the brunette's petite frame offers her. As a teenager she had become aware of the fact that she was perhaps less 'girly' than many of the young women she'd interacted with at the time, but it had been an absent, decidedly vague discovery; not something over which she had lost any sleep, nor anything she wished to change. The idea of being 'female' in the sense of mannerisms and interests had always seemed intertwined with such notions as being weak, of being dependent, of being helpless within her subconscious mind, and, despite a few snide comments here and there- and she has to give Regina credit where credit is due for fulfilling the quota of snide remarks over the present year- the fact that she lacks any real effeminate traits other than those biologically bestowed upon her has never really given her much cause for concern.

_Maybe it's not _about_ that though... About being weak..._

No, because if there's one thing the brunette is_ not_, it is weak, and the Sheriff mulls on this pensively as she walks with a little extra sway; watching the perfect hourglass of her curious shadow appreciatively as she continues towards the large entrance hall to the Palace.

As she nears the threshold, her heartbeat increases warningly in her chest- _no, Regina's chest; about the same size, but fuller due to a smaller frame, and oh, why the hell are you thinking about the Mayor's 'assets'- haha!- right now, Swan? Can't this wait for a time when, gee, I don't know, you're not pulling off 'the great magical heist of the century'?_- as she notes a silent sentry stood on either side.

_What would Regina do...?_

Supposing it works to her advantage that she has frequently found herself on the receiving end of some of the less pleasant aspects- the regal aspects- of the brunette's behaviour, she summons up the memory of Regina as she had been- Regina the Mayor- and pulls herself up to her full height; her neck long, and the dark skirts of the gown in which the Queen had clad herself the previous evening dancing about narrow shins in an oddly reassuring manner.

_"Do not speak unless spoken to..."_

Tossing silken locks back with an arrogance she prays doesn't look as theatrical as it feels to herself, she stalks past the two translucently pale men without a second glance, allowing a sigh of relief to escape pleasantly plump lips as she finds herself cast beneath the peculiar glow of green emitted from the sea up above.

_Step one: complete. Operation 'Snow' is underway._

She allows her tongue to toy with the small nick to her upper lip with intrigue before catching herself in the act with a frown.

_Stop that..._

Pursing her lips and offering the misbehaving tongue a sharp nip in reprimand, she glances up at the ominous stone of the tower which looms up ahead and continues with a greater purpose.

* * *

She takes the spiralling stairs slower than she usually might, supposing the Queen would be unlikely to bound up them two at a time, and still struggling to be one hundred percent in control of slim, amazingly loose limbs.

_If you trip and scuff yourself, you're dead meat, _dear_..._

Banishing the small smirk this thought garners, she sashays authoritatively up cold stone until she is presented with the curved arch of an entrance way a little above her. Taking a deep breath and telling the mutinous thumping of her heart to desist with its painful pounding, she stalks into the damp cavern stiffly, spying the crude stalactites that form a barrier across the middle of the large room and moving to stand before them slowly.

Mary Margaret lies on her back on a small cot bed, her eyes closed and her lips gently parted. Her hair tumbles in disarray and her clothes are ruthlessly crumpled, but she seems otherwise to be no worse for wear.

_She's fine... She's okay... Regina, I know you've sacrificed a great deal for what seems like something so small, but I needed to know, I needed to see...Needed to have just a small touch of, well, home... And she's okay... And I can't thank you enough for allowing me this... _

Clearing her throat, the Sheriff scolds herself swiftly as she feels a foolishly dopey grin alight borrowed lips and quickly schools fine features into an expression of aloof boredom as the raven-headed woman rolls onto her side lethargically to greet her visitor.

"You're back..."

"... Yes."

Green eyes narrow suspiciously, and Emma swallows, wondering how in the hell her deception should be so obvious.

"Why are you looking at me in such a way...?"

_I was going to ask you the same thing..._

Sighing, the Sheriff merely offers a nonchalant shrug, deciding the safest option to be ignorance.

"... How are you?"

Snow blinks in surprise, but she casts a glance down to the meagre cot bed beneath her before returning her attention to the Queen with a cold, sardonic smile.

"Is that question supposed to be funny?"

"No... I..."

Casting her eyes down to the dirt ridden floor, Emma gathers herself swiftly before regarding the woman before her with a hard expression and injecting her words with the confidence so familiar within the rich tone that falls from her lips.

"Hardly; I have little time for games. I merely came to warn you not to get too comfortable- _At least there's a mattress, right? It's not too bad? We're working on it, we really are! We're going to get back and it's all going to be fine, and please stop looking at me like that... Stop looking at _Regina_ like that... Things have changed, I promise, and I just can't take you looking at me like that- _as we will soon be embarking on our trip back to Storybrooke..."

"Well... You've certainly been taking your time..."

Cold. So very cold.

"...And I suppose my daughter still finds herself down in the servant's quarters. Honestly, I'm beginning to wonder if you actually mean to take us back with you at all..."

Emma balks visibly at the acid to the schoolteacher's tone- not having been privy to the previous conversation in which Regina had warned the younger woman to act in a way expected of her- and the look of hurt that crosses fine features has the pale woman frowning as she can't quite shake the feeling that there is something most peculiar about the dark Queen.

"... As I've already told you, Snow White, your fate lies in my hands and do not think for a second that leaving you to rot in this cell will suffice to satisfy my need for revenge for... All that you've done to me..."

While the Sheriff struggles to keep herself from inflecting nervously, the raven-headed woman's focus lies predominantly within the full use of her name; the words sounding clunky and out of place.

"... All that I've done to you...?"

Narrow shoulders shrug in a fashion entirely foreign to the brunette's regal frame as full lips form a hard, thoughtful line that seems oh so familiar to the school teacher, but she is unable to put her finger on just why that might be.

"Regina..."

Troubled eyes fail to flicker in recognition of being addressed, and Snow rises from the bed and pads towards the stony bars of her cell with a frown.

As the pale woman approaches the barrier, the brunette seems to pull herself together; tossing back glossy locks and sniffing irritably. Paying this little mind, the schoolteacher peers through the bars critically; green eyes narrowed as she stands so close to the darker woman that her breath whispers gently across velvet cheeks.

"What are you playing at?"

It is a low murmur, and she imagines that to any onlookers they would portray a rather strange tableaux indeed; close enough to kiss through the bars... Close enough to bite.

"... P-playing at?"

The Queen takes an awkward step backwards, mouth hard while dark coals flicker uncomfortably. She places her hands irritably on cocked hips and the paler woman's mouth falls open as it dawns on her just where she recognizes Regina's sudden strange mannerisms from.

_Whom_ she recognizes them from.

"Oh my god..."

Spanish eyes glitter dangerously as the brunette gives a minute shake of her head, her expression rife with warning as she regards shocked green warily.

"I... Uh..."

Wishing more than anything for a chance to simply drop her tiresome act and reach through the bars to her housemate, Emma gives a small nod of apology before once more adopting a tone of disdain and sweeping her hair back indifferently.

"Well, I will leave you to your thoughts..."

"... Right... Uh, Regina...?"

"... Yes?"

"Emma... She's alright? Will you tell me that much?"

"... She's fine, dear. I imagine she simply looks forward to returning home... Foolishly of course..."

"She's looking forward to coming... home?"

"... Of course she is... "

Allowing just the smallest of smiles to touch full lips, the Sheriff gives the schoolteacher a small nod of farewell before turning with a flourish and marching from the room; Snow watching with a disconcerted sigh as the last swatch of black satin of full skirts slips from view.

_You take care of yourself now, Emma... It was good to see you- better than you could know- but tread carefully... Please._

It is only when she moves back to perch on the bed that she thinks of just how strange it should be that Regina would allow the blonde the faith to carry off her little masquerade. Frowning, she tells herself to simply take solace in the fact that both the Queen and the Sheriff seem to be keeping their heads above water while refraining from clawing each other's eyes out.


	29. Chapter 29

Sitting rigidly on plush covers, Regina clenches her jaw as she wills the maddening itch of the throw wrapped tightly around borrowed limbs to desist. Doing so feels strange; the blonde's teeth fitting together in a peculiar fashion, and she is willing to bet the younger woman spends- or has spent- a good deal of time grinding them in either anger or nervousness. Having spent the last half hour in her current guise, this notion comes as no great surprise, as it fits in with the rest of the sensations she has been forced to endure perfectly.

It is as though the blonde's entire being is wound up as if it were some sort of mechanism in danger of exploding at any given second; her muscles almost painfully tight, taut and hard and the seemingly constant thrum of adrenaline coursing through the Sheriff's body more than a little nauseating.

_How does she put up with this and not go mad?_

_'_Go'_ mad? The Sheriff!?... A little late to worry about such things_ now_, is it not?_

"Quite."

Being trapped within the blonde's body is not an_ entirely_ unpleasant feeling, however, as with this strange tension comes a peculiar sense of power- so very different from that with which she is well acquainted- and she imagines that if she were to take her current prison out on a 'test drive' as it were, she would pack quite a punch.

Pointing slim feet in a simple ballet pose, she studies the hard lines of definition that mar pale flesh with open curiosity, not quite wishing to grace the blonde with yet more complimentary thoughts- something she has found most disconcerting ever since coming to Emma's aid at the hands of her mother- but simply pondering absently why the Sheriff should insist on covering herself up the way she does. True, she has made many a snide comment as to the younger woman's -albeit infrequent- low cut tops and sheer shirts, and she stands by the notion that the blonde dresses in a way that suggests she doesn't have two dimes to rub together, but the odd skirt or dress would hardly go amiss.

"Although I dread to think what our good Sheriff would constitute as 'fashionable' in either case..."

Smirking- one of the few expressions that feels completely natural in her borrowed skin- she plucks primly at the fraying bandage covering the blonde's left knee. Wrinkling her nose at its dirt-ridden state, she finds the small fold where she had tucked the end neatly away and pulls it back out; raising her leg slightly in order to unwind the filthy rag.

The newly exposed flesh has healed well- the grazes sure to scar, but, judging by the surrounding smattering of white nicks and dents, this is hardly something over which the younger woman will lose much sleep- and the area which had previously been covered by fraying white now creates an amusing stripe of pale pink against dusty yellow.

"A bath would not go amiss, dear..."

She finds herself blushing ever so slightly at the thought, swiftly scolding such ideas while she remains the wearer of the filthy limbs in question. To add to her annoyance, this tangent only serves to have her attention returning once more to the uncomfortable itch of the throw and she sighs irritably, refusing to acknowledge any alternative option.

_It's not as though I haven't found myself having to view such sights these past few days against my better will, but to _own_ them momentarily also... To touch, to feel..._

Pulling the itchy fabric briskly tighter, she wishes more than anything she'd arranged some sort of time with the Sheriff at which to expect her return.

"No... If I'm_ wishing_ for things, I wish to know what momentary loss of sanity led to agreeing to this in the first place..."

_You didn't just _agree_ to it, dear... You _suggested_ it... For the _Swan woman!_... A severe loss of sanity indeed._

A knock at the door shakes her from her thoughts and she rolls her eyes in frustration as she imagines just what it would look like should anybody be privy to the 'Queen' begging entrance to her own chambers.

"Honestly, dear, don't you ever _think_!..."

Padding over to the door, she pulls it open as she readies herself to berate the younger woman for her stupidity, but the words never come as she finds herself face to face with the Sea Queen.

"... Your Majesty..."

Alarm bells begin going off in her head, and she suffers a brief moment of being sure she's going to pass out as Emma's body reacts to her fear with a bolt of adrenaline which can be described in no other way but animalistic, before she pulls herself together and offers the older woman an odd sort of bow; made awkward both by slightly elongated limbs, and her mind's simple refusal to stoop to such an act.

Taking in a sharp breath as the Witch sweeps past her- brushing a stubby hand against the coarse fabric covering her hip- she strives to gather her thoughts; reminding herself that she wears the blonde's face and that she must act accordingly, despite her gut telling her that to submit in such a way is wrong.

_Isn't this what you've been asking of Emma, though?_

_No... I have '_asked'_ nothing of the woman. She wanted help and I offered it. Why should I be made to fret over the consequences?_

"Where's your Queen, sweetheart?"

Hooded eyes flicker about the room greedily before falling on long legs as crimson lips form a small smile. Regina stands her ground; no easy feat as her stomach flips nauseatingly.

She hadn't liked the way the Witch has looked upon the Sheriff when simply playing witness to the act, and now that she's stuck behind cold, green glass, she finds such attention to be utterly repulsive.

"... She wished to go and see my mother... "

"I see... I wonder what on earth for...?"

"I'm unsure... Probably just to gloat..."

It is odd speaking as the blonde, but it is also a little upsetting in a strange way. She tells herself she is simply playing a part, but when voiced in Emma's dry, surly tone she finds herself wondering if the Sheriff wouldn't in fact say much the same thing... Only _mean_ it.

_So what if she would? Don't let the chaos that has taken place here trick you into thinking you value any opinion offered by that little home wrecker..._

The thought is a half-hearted one, for deep down she knows it's too late to avoid such irritations. She refuses to dwell upon the changes between the younger woman and herself, but that doesn't mean that things _haven't_ changed...

_And Emma_ wouldn't_ think that..._

"I see... So she's left you all alone?..."

"... She won't be long..."

"No... No I imagine you're right..._ I_ wouldn't wish to leave you alone for all too long either... Such a _waste_..."

Shuddering slightly, Regina takes a step backwards to create a little more space between them; her heartbeat increasing rapidly as dark eyes continue to roam over her openly.

_How dare you look upon a Queen in such a way?! You are filth! I would have your hide for such perversion if this were my realm!_

_... But you're _not_ the Queen. Not now. You're _Emma_. She's looking at you how you keep telling Emma to allow of her..._

_"Just behave, Miss Swan..."_

_Really... Is this what it feel like to be-_

But her mind goes blank as all of a sudden things start to happen much too quickly; her vision impaired by shadow as the Witch's face looms close to her own and her backside makes damning contact with the dresser, her hands- Emma's hands- shooting back instinctually to keep her from falling in her attempt to avoid the Sea Queen.

"Such a pretty thing... "

"I..."

Cloying perfume and thick fingers at her cheek, as the Witch's buxom frame presses softly against her own and the Mayor shakes her head in numb shock- _how dare she be treated in such a way_- and tries to slip from Ursula's loathsome grasp.

"Oh oh oh, and a misbehaving little piece at that!"

The Witch's jocular tone seems to resonate between them jarringly, as the older woman tires of the other's skittish behaviour and attacks her once more; wrenching away thick wool as she shoves the blonde forcefully back against the dresser.

Regina lets out a cry, not sure if it is in rage or pain as her cheeks burn with humiliation and her borrowed ribs and hips- so recently healed- send bolts of white pain coursing through her as she collides with hard maple.

"Hey! N-no... What are you-"

"-Hush now..."

"No!"

A sharp and audible crack followed by the hateful sting of tears; the Mayor stunned as she slowly processes the fact that the Sea Queen has struck her, never having been treated in such a manner before.

_No, that's not true. You've been struck across the face before. By Emma... _

_But not like this..._

Trembling fingers shoot to a burning cheek as pale lips part to let loose a distressed gasp as meaty hands paw where they are not wanted, struggling to stumble out of reach while dimly aware that salted tears spill out onto high cheekbones.

"No! _Don't_! No!-"

Her shins strike the bed, and, had she been in her own body, she imagines she would have succeeded in avoiding the terrifying crash that comes next as she falls flailing onto the mattress- the tears that dampen her cheeks as much a result of sheer shock and humiliation as she thinks of her throne and of her stature as they are due to her fear- and cries out as a great weight crushes down on her.

"Oh stop this nonsense! Stop this right now! Stop or I'll _make_ you do so, my dear one, and neither one of us really wants it to come to that..."

A shocked whimper as a bejewelled hand works its way perversely high between clenched thighs.

"What are you-"

A cruel smirk before Ursula admonishes angrily

"I told you to bite your tongue, girl! Don't make me do it for you..."

Regina snaps sharp teeth shut to imprison the blonde's tongue, her breathing frantic and shallow as her mind races; unable to believe any of this is happening.

The Sea Queen simpers affectionately as the younger woman keeps her uneasy silence, and leans in close; her breath hot as it whispers over the hollow of the Mayor's throat.

"... Much better, sweetness... Oh, you need to be taught your place, little one; it is_ most_ clear this hasn't been taken care of at _all.._. But fret not... It's not_ all_ bad, my darling... It can even be_ fun_... So.._. So_ much fun... You know... I think I might like to try teach you a few things myself... My guests, lovely, they _crave_ entertainment... Oh, and you would provide so much more fun than a dull little ditty performed by some buffoon on the piano down there...-"

Thick fingers worm their way ever higher and a sick clicking noise accompanies the Witch's perverse words as Regina gulps audibly; slim fingers a stark white as she fists the throw beneath her in distress.

"We could teach you some things, precious, my guests and I... Like a little puppy dog... like a bitch in heat performing- whoring- for treats... We could loosen you up... We could-"

"No!"

A bejewelled knuckle brushes somewhere it shouldn't and the Mayor yells out as she feels a bolt of electricity shoot through painfully clenched limbs.

"... No?"

Angry. Low. Warning.

Ursula rises to study her lesser, eyes glittering feverishly as she drinks in flushed cheeks and pinkened eyes.

"You dare defy me?..."

"... I'm not yours..."

Laughter; cruel and light as the Witch licks her lips in amusement.

"Oh?"

Long nails plucking ripped fabric aside, and the younger woman shows her teeth as she growls, her voice laced with a new authority.

"...I belong to_ Regina_..."

"My dear-"

"-What's going on...?"

Silence falls heavily as both women on the bed look to the doorway.


	30. Chapter 30

**A/N:** _Sorry for the wait. I should have the new Wet chapter out soon too. Hope you enjoy, and please review. _

* * *

_"-What's going on...?"_

_Silence falls heavily as both women on the bed look to the doorway._

In that moment, Emma is vaguely aware that she has two options; madness or survival, and, while this decision should be straight forward enough, she feels she is dangerously close to opting for the former. She imagines what little sense she_ does_ manage to grasp onto is more for Regina's sake than her own; entirely thrown to be presented with her own fear-filled features, but recognizing the Queen somewhere beneath tousled blonde tresses and dirt-streaked pale skin.

Pulling her loaned body to its full height, she stalks into the room furiously, dark eyes glittering as she finds the Sea Witch's deadly gaze.

"Get off of her..."

No niceties, no respect for Ursula's stature, but that's okay; she doubts Regina would have reacted any differently.

Still, she is surprised when her low growl is met with simple compliance; the Sea Queen slipping eel-like from the bed as she licks her lips in a way that sends a shiver down the Sheriff's spine. Regina rolls onto her side, clenching her thighs protectively together, but the blonde's legs are slim and don't touch at their apex, causing her to curl up in a fetal position which feels entirely wrong. Dark eyes flicker towards her momentarily, but Emma keeps her attention firmly on the Witch, full lips curled back with a fury that lends refined features an animalistic quality.

"I believe I made myself perfectly clear as to who the girl belongs to..."

No matter how many times the subject has been broached, it still fills her with an odd sense of trepidation and seems entirely 'wrong'. She has never- nor _will_ she ever- 'belong' to anybody, and the subtext to the term in this situation is very far removed from her comfort zone. That said, this is the first time of acknowledging the strange pact with Regina when she hasn't _despised_ the term. She supposes, in a way, for the time being, she _does_ belong to the brunette in a fashion; Regina having proved herself not just an ally, but a guardian of sorts also.

And this is her chance to return the favor.

Squaring up the the Sea Queen with a deep rage she hopes masquerades as authority, she stares her down as the older woman appears to muse on their situation with minimal concern.

"You are not to touch her!"

"So you keep saying, my dear..."

"Then I would appreciate it if you took heed of my request!... I am grateful to you, as I have expressed more than once, but my gratitude does not extend to things that are mine..."

From the bed, the Mayor blinks in surprise; of all the scenarios she'd envisaged once the Sheriff had made herself known at the threshold, this is not one she had dared hope for. The blonde speaks eloquently. She offers a sterling performance. She submits willingly.

"... Pity."

"I'm sorry you think so."

"I see. Well... No matter. I will leave you to your spoils. Enjoy her..."

The Witch offers a smile which has the younger woman recoiling ever so slightly- _What were you doing here? What were you doing to her... To me- _before slipping from the room; seemingly unflustered and with no grudge held.

_Which makes her all the more dangerous._

Letting out a shuddering breath when the door thuds gently closed, Emma looks to the bed as she chews on a perfectly plump bottom lip.

"Regina..."

Moving over to take up an awkward seat on plush covers, she extends her hand to the Mayor cautiously, withdrawing it as if burnt when the darker woman snarls at her; the noise sounding odd as it escapes her own lips.

"Get the hell away from me!"

"But I-"

"-This is_ your_ fault! If I hadn't let you convince me to allow such madness... It should have been _you_!"

Emma opens her mouth to growl back, but she is at a loss of what to say. Green eyes shimmer pink as tears of humiliation spill out onto high cheekbones and she knows better than to begrudge the Mayor for her harsh words.

Regina is proud.

That much they have in common.

Letting out a low sigh as the Queen pushes past her and stalks a little unsteadily towards the bathroom, the Sheriff worries her lip nervously as she is left staring at the door; the telling click of the lock echoing loudly.

"Regina... Are you-"

But she stops herself. To ask if the brunette is okay is pointless as the answer is all too clear.

In the bathroom, Regina puts down the lid of the toilet and sits with her head in her hands, growling in frustration as long, blonde hair tumbles over her face. She toes the line between fury and humiliation; her chest- the Sheriff's chest- tight with anger and tears wetting her palms despite her best efforts to quell such weakness.

_It should have been Emma. It should have been Emma. It should never have been me. It should have been Emma. _

As these thoughts plague her mind, they are not the result of any ill feelings towards the blonde, but more a mourning for her crown. For her throne. Things have been tough for her for a long time- the world as harsh on the Queen as she has been on its inhabitants- but such carnal humiliation is not something she has experienced before, and the perversity of the situation has her feeling physically nauseous.

_I was the Queen... I was everything... How dare she... How dare she treat me in such a way!?_

Digging- fortunately blunt- nails into the fragile flesh of her cheeks, she lets out a shuddering breath, sniffing miserably. Her head hurts, but she is slowly managing to gather herself under control, and with this comes a sense of guilt. She is not one to apologize for her words expressed in anger- to apologize for her words at _all_- but she does feel a small sense of discomfort having experienced first hand what the blonde has been subjected to. It had been rough and forceful, and she is distraught in the knowledge that she can no longer risk leaving Emma alone.

_Will_ no longer risk it.

_ "Oh, you need to be taught your place, little one; it is most clear this hasn't been taken care of at all... But fret not... It's not all bad, my darling... It can even be fun... So... So much fun... You know... I think I might like to try teach you a few things myself... My guests, lovely, they crave entertainment... "_

She shivers.

_You still don't know what she plans to ask of you in return for her aid... _

But she has a feeling she can make an educated guess.

While not part of a bargain, she has a certain amount of control over the Witch's treatment of the Sheriff; not as much as she had initially thought, but enough to keep Emma relatively safe ... But, should the Sea Queen decide she no longer wishes to play by their current rules...

_Then you will have to find something else to offer her. You can't let her harm Emma, not when you need to bring her home for Henry._

_Ah, but it isn't _harm_ she wishes to bestow onto the blonde. _

Shivering once more, her current state of attire- or lack of it- dawns on her slowly, and with it, the dull ache gnawing at skinny hips and a defeated, miserable hunger deep in her gut.

"Oh, dear, you really are in a sorry state."

The thought has her wishing- not for the first time- that she had never come here. That she had left Emma and Mary Margaret to perish in the Enchanted Forest. After all, there would have been a slim chance Snow would have found them a way home... Unlikely... But not impossible. True, she doubts things would have ever been fully rectified between herself and Henry with the Sheriff's disappearance looming over them, but she is unsure whether their relationship can be fixed even now.

If she had stayed in Storybrooke, she wouldn't be stuck with the dilemma she faces now.

Of having unconsciously grown ever so very slightly fond of the younger woman.

Of sharing the blonde's pain.

"Let's not push it..."

* * *

When the blonde changes, she barely feels it, but the shock of staring down at smooth, olive-skinned knees only to have them merge a bruised, graze-spattered alabaster has her taking in a sharp gasp and blinking childishly. Looking up to the bathroom doorway, she finds Regina leaning against the beam with her arms crossed over her chest, surveying her critically.

"...Regina..."

"We need to get you some food, Miss Swan... And then I'd suggest a bath."

The Mayor's tone is close to boredom, her expression suggesting she has no wish to discuss Ursula's actions. Emma frowns, dimly aware of an all too familiar pain in her hips and ribs but she says nothing on the matter.

"... Okay."

Fiddling with a strand of hair- _her_ hair; its generous length soothingly familiar- she simply waits for whatever comes next, unsure exactly what emotions hide behind the Queen's stoic expression.

"... You'll come down with me. You're not to stay up here on your own any more."

The Sheriff resists the urge to answer back; Regina's tone suggesting Emma had been hiding up in the room just to spite her.

"Okay."

"... I'm sorry..."

"For?"

"For what I said. I was-"

"- I get it."

"... Good."

"Good."

"... Come on, let's find some food."

"Sure..."

Regina frowns as the blonde opens her mouth as if to add something, but she seems to think better of it and simply pushes herself from the bed.

"... What's wrong?"

"Nothing..."

"Emma..."

"No, it's fine, it's just... Shouldn't she have sorted us out by now? Like... What are we actually _waiting_ for?"

_Ursula to decide what she wants as payment for her services._

"I'm sure these things just take time..."

_"I think I might like to teach you a few things myself..."_

"I will ask for an update tonight..."

"You think she's messing with us?"

"No..."

_"My guests, lovely, they crave entertainment..."_

"I believe Ursula relishes the knowledge that she holds all the cards as it were... I... I wouldn't fret on it, dear. I'll sort us out."

"I know."

Only two words, and the blonde utters them with a small shrug and little thought.

Regina swallows, tasting copper.


	31. Chapter 31

**A/N: **_Dun dun dun. I said the same thing in the last A/N for Wet, but I realise that both of these stories are currently fairly light (well, in this case... non existent as of yet) as far as sexytimes and bickering SQ fun, so I uploaded a two-shot 'Paint' to sate the needs of the depraved amongst you. I also plan to do another one in the next week or so under the word prompt of 'attic' so stay tuned ;) Hope you enjoy, and please review :)_

* * *

"Sorry, that took rather longer than expected-"

The brunette's words taper off into silence as she closes the door to the bedchambers and spies Emma. The blonde lies curled up on her side facing the door, sooty lashes casting shadows across her cheeks as she takes in deep and tellingly even breaths.

It is a sight the Queen imagines would ordinarily have her smirking to herself- although she is still able to appreciate the way the Sheriff's balled up fist leaves her thumb amusingly close to gently parted lips- but after the conversation with Ursula from which she returns, she doesn't feel a whole lot like smiling. Padding a little closer to the bed with subconscious care to keep quiet, she crosses her arms uncomfortably over her chest as she looks down on the younger woman with a frown.

_I wish someone could tell me what to do..._

The blonde's long hair is slightly damp, and from the looks of her arms and shoulders which are visible as they crest the bedspread, she appears to have taken the time left in secure peace to finally cleanse herself of the layer of grime in which she had previously wallowed. This theory is supported by a sea-green towel Regina spots slung haphazardly onto the stool by the dresser and she lets out a low sigh as she makes her way over to pluck it up and fold it neatly so as to actually let it dry.

She removes her clothes with little care as to the younger woman's presence; negating to shut herself away in the bathroom, but instead simply moving around to the other side of the bed so that Emma has her back to her. Folding her clothes neatly- making a mental note that she will have to find something else to wear within the depths of the closet as she is not a woman who will condone festering for more than three days in the same attire- she places them on the dresser before disappearing into the bathroom to splash cold water onto her face. Finding the indigo tunic she has been using in leu of a nightgown, she slips it neatly over her head.

Turning back to the sink with a frown, she repeats her pervious actions; collecting cupped handfuls of water and splashing them repeatedly over her face, but she knows deep down that the dirtiness she feels is not the sort that will be cleansed away with soap and water.

"What a mess..."

Giving herself a scrutinising glance in the mirror, she looks away irritably and stalks back into the bedroom, climbing carefully beneath the covers while taking care not to brush against the Sheriff.

She is certain sleep will be a long time coming, but she simply resigns to the fact; giving a brief flick of her wrist to quell the lights and closing her eyes against the darkness.

* * *

_She offers the Sheriff a final glance as she stands at the threshold with her hand on the doorknob. She is relieved that they had not been forced to reenact the obscene dinner theatre previously necessary to ensure the blonde doesn't go hungry, having come across no one on their way down to the pantry; Emma tagging behind with her head respectfully bowed. The desertion of the halls had seemed curious, but, knowing little of the ways and the schedule of the Palace, Regina is happy to take good luck where she can find it. The rest of the day they had spent together in a not altogether unpleasant silence, simply waiting out each other's company as the brunette fretted for night to fall- figuratively within this realm- so as to seek out the Witch and demand answers. Now, inwardly grimacing at the encouraging smile the younger woman offers, she gives her a curt nod before closing the door; sealing the threshold with one of her more complex enchantments. _

_She in almost positive such a precaution is pointless- her magic of little use to the inhabitants of this hateful place- but it does no harm to at least give it a go. _

_And besides... She is planning to request the company of the threat she attempts to guard the blonde against... Keeping her enemies close._

_When she finally makes her way down to the room in which Ursula has entertained her previously, she suffers a moment of understandable doubt as she has no way of knowing whether she has come to the right place to find the Sea Queen. A soft rap on the door has her swallowing at least a little of her anxiety as a raspy voice from within lets out a low purr._

_"Enter..."_

_Slipping cautiously into the dim glow of the room, Regina swallows thickly as she is accosted with a most disconcerting scene. The Witch reclines lazily back on the large bed that centres the room, her dress wrinkled up around thick, fish-belly pale thighs, between which a young woman with a heavily scarred back moves her head in an obscene fashion._

_"What can I do for you, darling?"_

_The brunette finds herself at a momentary loss for words; utterly disgusted to play witness to such a private and debauched act, but she gathers herself firmly and averts her eyes from the activities underway further south in favour of regarding Ursula stoically. The Sea Queen's eyes don't even flicker._

_"... I have questions I was hoping you would be able to answer."_

_"Oh?"_

_Regina nods, her lips forming a hard line as she forbids her mind from replaying the hateful bedroom scene from earlier. She is thrown by the older woman's apparent decision to proceed with their current conversation without ordering the frail, startlingly pale woman between her legs to desist and leave them be, but she takes care not to let it show._

_"Indeed... I am deeply grateful for your hospitality and your kindness since arriving here, but as you perhaps will be able to understand better than any; I am _royalty_, and I am anxious to deal with affairs in my own realm... I wish to know if you have made any progress in your quest to aid me in returning...?"_

_"Ah, but of course... You worry too much, sweetheart, just as your mother did. We must all relax now and again and _enjoy_ ourselves... But you are a fiery young woman, and I find that most pleasurable... Progress though... Well, _progress_ is a funny term. You see, it's not a case of figuring out a way, in this case, but figuring out a_ want_, you understand me? I do not condone handouts, my love, nor do I offer up favours for free... If I am to spend my time and energy, I want something in return."_

_"... And, do you know what it is you might like from me?"_

_"As I have previously stated... Gold, magic, gifts, debts... They bore me. I have no use for them... But you do have _something_ I might consider trading..."_

_Ursula offers a wicked grin, her cheeks becoming flushed and her breathing becoming ever so slightly laboured. The Mayor balls her hands surreptitiously into fists._

_"... What might that be, Your Majesty?"_

_"Oh come now, let's not pussyfoot around in such a pitiful dance... You know what I want."_

_"... I'm afraid I don't..."_

_"The girl. You have her... I want her."_

_"... No."_

_"No?"_

_"You can't... I mean... What would you even_ want_ with her? She is of meaning to myself due to the history shared with her mother... To you she is of no value, surely?"_

_"Oh, she has value... She must... Why else would you be so attached to her?"_

_"I am not_ attached_ to the girl. I am protective over my ownership of her, but that is as far as it goes."_

_"... I don't like being lied to."_

_"... I... She..."_

_"She must be in possession of _some_ talent, sweetness, or you would have spent the day enjoying the royal court and the luncheon hosted for my guests... It is rather odd for_ royalty_ to spend her day cooped up in the company of a servant girl, wouldn't you agree?"_

_"Well-"_

_"-Unless, of course, the little wretch in question has the talents to match her looks... She is a fine looking girl despite her markings, I will allow you that much..."_

_"... She's... Attractive, yes."_

_"So tell me..."_

_"...I'm not sure I understand what talents you speak of. So far as I have witnessed, she holds no discernible skills in anything of use, save for an aptitude for vile language and poor attitude."_

_Regina purses her lips, fully aware that they_ both_ know just what the Sea Queen is asking of her, but unable to entertain a reply. However, Ursula is not one to take pity, and she doesn't fail to play to character now; beginning a sordid pumping of her hips as she entwines thick fingers into tangled red hair- her heavy rings catching and snagging roughly- and licking her lips as she continues._

_"Oh, don't be coy... I'll bet the lovely princess is capable of far more with her tongue than spitting obscenities..."_

_Feeling an uncharacteristic blush creeping across her cheeks, the brunette struggles to keep her composure as the rage at being insulted and spoken to in such a fashion threatens to overwhelm her. She is at a loss of what to say, but Ursula seems not to notice; closing her eyes as she continues in a breathy voice._

_"And I'm dying to now what tricks she learnt being part of that other world... Such a feisty young thing... Delightful... And with the way you spring to her protection, I have no doubt she's let you in on more than a few of them... Tell me... Tell me what Emma does for you that makes her so desirable... What you do to _her_... Those cuts... That bruising... She told me her mother was the one to tend to her injuries, but the bandages... They suggest she has felt both your hand of reprimand and your hand of kindness... Myself... My underlings are expendable, but you... You want this to_ last_ for her don't you... To keep her fit and healthy to prolong your games... To_ fuck_ with her..."_

_The Witch's last words are little more than a throaty groan; thrusting her hips up as she speaks before letting out a low moan and chuckle._

_A singular bead of blood splashes unnoticed on the floor as once-manicured nails burrow deeply into the delicate flesh of soft palms._

_Taking in a shaky breath, the brunette speaks without emotion._

_"... What do you want with Emma?"_

_"Are you ready to deal?"_

_A raised eyebrow as hooded eyes find hers; the Sea Queen petting the young woman who curls up before her as though she were a cat, the mermaid's jaw glistening damningly. _

_"... Just tell me what you want."_

_"The girl..."_

_"She's-"_

_"Oh, I know, dearest, she's yours... But you are in possession of such a seemingly_ fun_ toy that I can't help but want a go. I am offering you a great favour, Regina, and all I ask in return is that you show your gratitude by sharing what is yours. No different than allowing your most treasured guests to sip from your best wine... So what I propose is this; I am currently playing host not just to yourself and your spoils, but to the forgotten Nereids from the very depths of a distant ocean. Not just royalty, precious, but _deities_. There is bad blood in our histories, just as there is in our past concerning humans, but this is something we aim to rectify... As times change... As must our relationships and bonds. I am hosting a small soiree in their honour and I wish to invite you along as a guest... You will bring the girl. Whatever talents you seem so resolute in keep all to yourself, I imagine we shall have a fun time prying from her... In short... You provide my guests and I with an evening of entertainment. When we are finished with her, you may do with her what you will. She is yours..."_

_"... And if I say no?"_

_"I wouldn't advise you do so. I am not a woman who takes kindly to not having her way, and there is only one thing you possess in which I hold any interest. I have stated my terms, now go think on them if you must... But remember this... I don't dabble in free handouts. If you deny me the girl, there is only so long that your blood and your stature will give me reason to play host. The choice is yours, sweetness, but I'm not sure there's a great deal for you to think about... You have three days."_

_With that the Witch makes a shooing gesture with her hand, as the other dips down to her wetness, causing the brunette to turn swiftly away. Regina offers a gritted farewell before making her way stiffly from the room, dimly aware that her hands are shaking._

* * *

Letting out a small gasp as she is pulled swiftly from sleep, the brunette blinks in the darkness; willing the hateful scene from earlier to leave her be. Turning onto her side, she is able to make out the gentle slope of the blonde's shoulder and the light mass of her curls which seem to glow ever so slightly in the shadows. Flicking her wrist lightly, she allows just a little light; the candles in the chandelier above them flickering in a way that should not be possible as they cast a hazy glow about the room.

Pushing herself up so that she rests on one elbow, Regina peers down at sparsely freckled flesh before jumping slightly when the Sheriff moves. Emma simply proceeds to roll over, however, curling up a little more as she now faces the Queen, but her eyelashes flicker tellingly and the brunette knows that her ignition of the lights has broken the blonde's peaceful dreaming.

"...'Gina?"

Groggy, still half asleep, and seemingly unaware that she has let the throw fall to expose her abdomen fully.

_She's... Attractive, yes._

The brunette frowns.

"Sorry, dear... I was just checking something."

"... Is everything okay?"

Emma doesn't open her eyes, and the Queen imagines she's only half aware that she's even speaking, but still her brow creases slightly with concern, and the Mayor finds herself suddenly curiously close to tears. Giving her head a quick shake, she allows the lights to dampen into darkness once more.

"Everything's fine."

And with that she shocks herself, as she extends her hand and gives the younger woman's skinny shoulder a squeeze, stroking soft skin gently, before rolling away to face the wall.

"Hush now, and go back to sleep."


	32. Chapter 32

**A/N: **_I'm not going to put warnings on this fic, as I think it's safe to assume from the topics recently discussed within; things aren't all going to be chocolate and roses. What I will say as that from this chapter- which again, is more just a stepping stone to a main part, sorry- onwards, there may be some scenes people find a little uncomfortable. Hopefully, you'll bear with me, but I understand if not. Hope you enjoy, and please review :)_

* * *

_Scarlet._

_It pools in the shallow dip of the blonde's navel; its damning stain highlighting a small nick to the flesh above and the Mayor imagines the Sheriff must have once worn it pierced, the way she has heard some women do in that other world. _

_She shivers, leaning down and touching the tip of her tongue to that tiny mark and tasting copper. _

_The younger woman gives a soft mewl of encouragement, lifting her hips slightly, but she is the Queen's toy and not here to be pleasured. _

_Sharp nails drag once again down bloodied flesh in reprimand and the blonde lets out a choked cry; the noise muffled as she moans into hot flesh. _

_Taking heed of the darker woman's warning, she goes back to lapping at the Queen's wetness with greater earnest; trembling fingers stroking satin-soft thighs as the brunette kneels above her with her legs splayed._

_Drinking in pale, white flesh splayed out beneath her, the darker woman bites her lip, letting out a low hum as her prize focuses her attention on the small bundle of nerves hidden between slick folds. _

_Lowering herself a little more- her thighs tired of holding her weight, and her interests in her own comfort, not the Sheriff's- she strokes a finger over the sharp peak that announces the base of the younger woman's ribcage with a satisfied smile as the girl beneath her tenses visibly; her airflow dangerously restricted._

_The sweet attention to the Queen's lust never falters._

_Rocking her hips slightly, the brunette closes her eyes as she feels herself begin to peak towards __ecstasy, resting her palm heavily on the toned flesh of her toy's stomach to keep herself steady._

_Her movements cause sharp teeth to accidentally graze her tender flesh._

_She allows no accidents. _

_Slapping the flat of her hand down ruthlessly between the blonde's gently parted legs, the resultant jerk of slim limbs and cry against her centre has her falling forward as she climaxes violently; the hand she had been using to steady herself slipping through the slick remnants of her earlier punishments._

_Clambering off the blonde while still in the frenzied throws of her pleasure, she turns herself around to straddle slim hips, mouthing and biting at the slender column of the younger woman's throat; able to feel the frantic thrum of the Sheriff's pulse against her tongue as the latter takes in desperate gulps of air._

_"Splendid"_

_A deep, rich tone, and she stiffens in confusion, her teeth still closed on salted flesh. Moving slowly, she rises so that she sits mounting the Sheriff, raising her head with an awful trepidation. _

_Onlookers; many of them. A sea of faceless slippery bodies writhing with their own want. _

_At the forefront; the Sea Queen._

_Grinning._

_"Now, darling, don't be greedy. Let someone else have a go."_

_Laughter._

_Shuddering, she closes her eyes, suddenly terrified to look down at the blonde._

_"...Emma?"_

_Finally lowering her gaze, she shakes her head as she is met with tear-filled green; the younger woman shaking her head as she trembles with distraught sobbing._

_"Why, Regina?!"_

* * *

"Regina?!"

Salted lashes fly open and the brunette is met with curious green as the Sheriff looms over her so close that their noses almost touch. She is dimly aware of strong fingers gripping one of her shoulders and the soft round of the blonde's breast pressing against her side as Emma continues to inspect her with clear concern.

"Shit, you just wouldn't wake up! What the hell kind of dream were you _having_?!"

Still, the younger woman doesn't move, and the Queen shivers as she feels warm breath whisper across her face as she speaks.

"Emma..."

"I'm here."

I small- uncharacteristically sweet- smile and somewhere in the back of her mind Regina notes the sleepiness apparent in pale features and understands that her fretful slumbering must have roused the Sheriff; morning still another hour or so away.

"...I can see that."

"Are you okay?"

"... Of course I am. It was a dream, dear, and I am a grown woman."

"I know that, but like... You were really going for it you know? I almost thought you were throwing a fit or something... But then you spoke, and I realised you were dreaming, but at first I couldn't wake you..."

"... I said something?"

"...Yeah... You, uh... Said my name..."

"Well, I suppose your presence would constitute a nightmare..."

Her words are snide, and her tone dismissive, but Emma seems unconvinced, and the brunette finds herself crucially aware of the younger woman's body heat as she remains somewhat pressed against her.

Dark eyes flicker to pretty, pink lips that hover just a little too close.

"I'm fine."

"... If you say so."

And_ finally_ she rolls away, leaving the flesh against which she had previously been pressed feeling curiously chilled.

Regina is all too aware of intelligent green studying her as the Sheriff lies on her side, silent but watchful.

She is aware that her hands tremble.

She is aware of a damning wetness between her legs.

Slipping swiftly from the bed- not wanting to be anywhere_ near_ the younger woman as the blonde lies so pretty, so trusting beside her- she mutters something about wishing to take a shower and closes the door to the bathroom swiftly behind her before staggering to hold herself up by means of the sink.

"No, no, no, no, no..."

She whispers, as tears patter unchecked into the basin.

Shaking her head, she moves swiftly to the shower, wrenching the ornate taps violently to unleash a scalding torrent of water. Keeping it as hot as she is able to bear, she pulls the indigo shift up over her head and moves to stand beneath it, her arms wrapped protectively around herself as she bows her head and allows water to stream from her dark locks.

_I can't do this. I can't do that to her. Not to _anyone_... But especially not to Emma._

The thought doesn't exactly _surprise_ her, but rather, it creeps up on her. She has awoken the younger woman twice now in the night due to her concerns as to the Sea Witch's words, and while the older woman's request would be despicably vile were it any _other_ soul to be treated in such a manner, when she is presented with the blonde's pretty features and begrudgingly endearing attitude, she finds herself sick to her stomach.

She likes Emma.

She does.

_Yes, but you _love_ Henry... And to get back to Henry you always knew you might have to make several sacrifices._

"But to let Ursula and the others _touch_ her... _Play_ with her...?"

_I detest the idea._

Sniffing, she attempts to skirt cautiously past a new idea that blossoms poisonously to accompany her whispering.

_Jealousy._

It is a ridiculous notion, but one she is no longer able to overlook. Any hint made as to an amorous attachment or interest in the younger woman has had her scoffing at the very idea vehemently.

But she is crucially aware of the slick heat between her legs in response to the heated scene of her dream.

And that is perhaps what is most distressing.

* * *

When the water finally begins to run cold, the Queen shuts it off and climbs from the shower, wrapping herself in a towel. She had cleansed herself thoroughly, and, upon reaching the cleft between her legs- soap slipping over her need causing well toned thighs to twitch- she had excised all thought of the blonde.

This becomes a little more difficult when she reenters the bedroom.

The Sheriff lies on her stomach with her cheek pillowed in the crook of her arm, her mouth slightly open as she takes in soft, just audible breaths. The bedspread lies crumpled in disarray, and Regina supposes the blonde must have kicked it from herself after falling back asleep in her absence. The lack of the blanket has the brunette noting with a shocked raising of her eyebrows that the soft flesh of the younger woman's behind is entirely on display.

Frowning, it eventually dawns on her that she had glimpsed- and overlooked- a swatch of black fabric draped over the regal curve of the tap at the bathroom sink, and she comes to the slow realisation that the Sheriff must have taken the opportunity while bathing the previous evening to wash the sparse amount of clothing she still owns.

Blushing, she is unsure whether to laugh at the picture the younger woman presents to her, or scream.

Opting for a sensible medium, she proceeds to simply pluck at the discarded bedspread and pull it primly up to cover- really rather delectably toned- asscheeks, before turning to the closet in search for a new outfit.

* * *

"You never said how your talk with Ursula went?"

Regina jumps at the blonde's low drawl as she exits the bathroom in her newly acquired ensemble; deep scarlet silk wrapped and draped in a complex weave to accentuate her enviable figure.

A deep scowl as the Sheriff lets out a jocular wolf whistle, colour creeping across sun kissed cheeks.

"Well, when I got back upstairs you were snoring away, so..."

"I don't snore."

"How would you know?"

"I've shared a bed with a lot of people, and no one's ever complained."

Emma offers her a sly wink, and, although she knows it to be impossible, Regina can't help but feel that the younger woman is purposefully endeavouring to add insult to injury; her statement undeniably ambiguous and the way her long hair tousles as she sits up in bed wrapped in nothing but the covers begging the question of if this isn't the same sight those aforementioned 'people' may have been privy to upon waking.

"About your sleeping habits... Or?"

Her tone is excessively icy, but the blonde simply chuckles. She herself finds the conversation to be rather amusing; never having thought she would be playing a game of innuendos with the Mayor.

"Neither... Apart from maybe being accused of playing a little rough-"

"-_Ah!_ Enough! I don't want to know!"

Laughing wickedly, the Sheriff offers a decidedly evil smirk, before resting against the headboard and raising an eyebrow as she waits for the Queen to answer her original question.

Regina looks away; her mind a mess.

"... It went... I suppose it went just as well as _any_ conversation with Ursula was ever going to go..."

"What does_ that_ mean?"

"It means... She... She hasn't told me what she wants yet..."

"Well then_ that_ was a waste of time..."

Spanish eyes flicker over to the blonde warningly, an angry scowl alighting fine features, but the younger woman's words are flippant, and she toys with a stray thread on the throw; oblivious.

"... Maybe next time, _you_ should go an ask her..."

The anguish in the Mayor's voice is tangible, and Emma glances up at her in surprise, shaking her head and apologising swiftly.

"I didn't mean it like that... I just... _She's_ the one I'm pissed at, okay? You... Well, you've been pretty fucking amazing ever since this all started."

"... Yes...Well... I wish to return to my son..."

"As do I... I was just hoping she'd have come up with whatever twisted thing she wanted is all..."

"... Are you sure?... You're sure you're in such haste to hear what damned and depraved request that woman has to make?"

"_Of course!_... Are you saying you're_ not_?"

"I'm merely suggesting your eagerness for an answer might suggest you don't quite comprehend the deviance of the Sea Witch."

"... Maybe I don't... But it doesn't really matter, right?"

"... It doesn't?"

"Well, no... I'll do whatever it takes to get home... Same as you."

"...Right."


End file.
